beeftony

I'm Not Dead...

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 21:38:49 GMT

...so put down the party hats, people. I've just been without access to a computer for awhile, and I've taken some time to refocus my priorities and get my life on schedule. It was a much needed retreat, as I was extremely close to burning myself out--not updating my stories, getting into arguments for no good reason, and generally just getting bored with doing the same old thing every day--until God (or fate, or whatever you want to call it) decided to intervene and remove the biggest distraction from my life. But now I'm back and feeling more creative than ever.

I won't be able to fully return until I figure out just what the hell is wrong with my laptop (I have too many debts to take it to a professional, so I'm pretty much screwed for a while), but I am able to use my school's computers to stay in contact with you all. I won't be writing either until I manage to recover the data from my hard drive, because I was too lazy to actually back anything up. I didn't think I needed to. Lesson learned there.

What have I been up to now that I don't spend over ten hours a day on the web? Work, mostly, and playing video games in my spare time. I recently picked up Resident Evil 4, and I love it so far. Definitely one of the best games I've ever played. I also took the time to complete Devil May Cry and Devil May Cry 3 (I skipped 2, based on word that it sucks ass). I'll likely continue doing this, as I greatly enjoy it, so between that, school, and of course my job, I'll probably end up spending even less time online. But maybe that's for the best.

See you around,

beeftony

Movie Theatre Etiquette

Thu, 29 May 2008 20:56:13 GMT

Now, before you say that you've read this rant a million times before, let me remind you that this is coming from the perspective of somebody who works at a movie theatre. Therefore, chances are you haven't heard this particular rant before. This is addressed to just about every annoying, bitchy, or otherwise unpleasant customer that I've ever encountered. I've gotten used to dealing with their abuse, but since I can't take it out on them, I'm going to rant about it here.

How NOT to treat the staff of a movie theatre:

1. Parents: please be aware of what a movie's rating is before you buy tickets to it. While I am greatly amused by the fact that your own children were able to dupe you into buying them tickets to an R-rated movie, I do not appreciate being yelled at like it's my fault that happened. The MPAA ratings system exists for the sole purpose of helping parents to make an informed decision as to which movies their children can watch. If you're not going to use your brain and do your damn research before coming to the movies, I shouldn't have to give you a refund for being stupid. But I do anyway, because the people who run this company want you to come back. Personally, I don't give a fuck if you do. One less idiot to deal with.

2. Customers who feel the need to yell at cashiers: I don't care how late you are for your movie. If you make one of my cashiers cry, we're going to have problems. Keep your temper to yourself, or at least save it for me. I can handle it. A 16 year old girl typically can't. Especially when she's already stressed out by all the other aspects of this job.

3. I understand that you were waiting in line. I know your movie is starting soon. I'm aware that I wasn't on drawer a second ago, when I was trying to find a Team Member to hop on. I'm a Team Leader. That means I supervise the people on drawer, and I don't hop on myself unless there's no other option. So please, don't snap at me, and don't make snide comments about how I was "too busy talking." I WAS TRYING TO FIND SOMEONE TO PUT ON DRAWER! When I couldn't, I got on myself. You should be grateful that I got on at all. If you don't want to be late, don't get here five minutes before your movie starts. Common sense.

4. If you need my help looking for your lost kid, please give me the correct description. Also, be reasonable. Don't demand that we turn off all the projectors, and don't call the cops just because the manager, who has gone into every single auditorium trying to help you find your little brats, is being "rude." There's no reason to freak out like that. Absolutely none. Neither of those actions is going to help find your kids any faster, and you are not more important than the tens of thousands of dollars spent by every other person who comes to the theatre that day. You can just never come back, for all I care. Tell your friends not to come too. We'll still be ranked number one in the state, whether you had a good experience or not.

5. If I'm walking by you, and you spill your popcorn, please don't just keep walking. I know that I'm here to clean up that popcorn, but don't presume that it's my assigned task that day. I could be, I don't know, supervising more than twenty people in the Concession Stand, and I'm just getting back from an errand. At least let me say, "I'll get that for you." It's called being polite.

On that note, make some attempt to clean up after yourself as you leave the theatre. I understand if you don't want to pick up a popcorn spill: that's what we have brooms for. But at least take your containers. Also, don't leave completely filled large cups sitting in your cup holder. Drink the rest of it, or just throw it away. Don't leave it for me to take care of, because most likely the straw will punch right through the bottom of the bag, causing it to leak.

5. Be patient. As I said before, if you don't want to rush to get to your movie, don't get here ten minutes beforehand. We start letting people into the theatre around thirty minutes before the show actually starts. Take advantage of that, and get here early. That way you're pretty much guaranteed your favorite seat. And please, don't yell at me if you're late. I'm doing everything I can to get the lines moving quickly, but you're not the only person I have to deal with. Try and understand that.

The only reason I haven't said this to your face is because I am getting paid to deal with your crap. If I weren't, you can bet that the smile you see on my face would only be saved for the people who actually take time out of their day to be nice to me. I like those people, and it would make me happy to see them return. I don't care if you come back. I'm required to thank you, but for what, really? For yelling at me? For belittling my cashiers and making them cry? For being a total idiot? No, I'm thanking you for one thing, and one thing only: your money.

That is the only reason that we want your rude ass to come back: so that we can take more out of your pocket. Don't like it? Don't come here. Or just be polite. Either one is fine with me.

Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Little Muse Gone?

Thu, 29 May 2008 08:14:27 GMT

I'm totally the first person to come up with that title. Really. Hey, you try coming up with something more original at 1 am! ;)

Anyway, I seem to have lost inspiration for my stories. Work, as well as being reminded several times why one should never argue over the internet, have me feeling... apathetic. I'm not exactly depressed, but I'm finding it difficult to care about anything writing-related at the moment.

Which sucks, because I've had some really good ideas lately. I just can't get them onto the computer. Maybe I'm just being overly critical, or maybe I really am writing crap. Whatever it is, I can't seem to get any good prose out of my brain. Even my dialogue seems to be lacking.

I would try doing something else, except... I don't feel like it. So I just sit in my room, surfing aimlessly around the interwebs, until it's time to go to work. I actually enjoy my job, so that becomes an escape, which is what my free time should be. It just seems wrong somehow.

Blah. Maybe if I didn't stay up so late all the time.... @_@

ETA: My inner Princess Bride fan is greatly amused by the fact that there is an actual location called the Pit of Despair. Seriously, click the link. What are the chances?

Renewal of Faith

Sun, 25 May 2008 07:02:54 GMT

So after my Lana rant, I got to thinking. Was her character always this bad? Is the reason I loathe her and want to see her vaporized because of the way AlMiles have portrayed her? In the hands of the right author, could I actually appreciate her character? I've decided to find out.

This isn't an official challenge by any means, more like a request. If any of you have read a story (or stories) where you didn't want to strangle Lana by the end, and you actually (gasp) enjoyed her portrayal, then please, refer me to them so that I might see how other, better authors handle her character without turning her into a Sue.

I'll go first. Here are some fics where Lana has a major role that didn't make me gag. In fact, I found them to be rather interesting. Of course, that's probably because all of them are from paperbkryter, whose stories are always such a pleasure to read that I feel like I need a cigarette afterwards. And I don't even smoke. ;)

Anyway:

1. The Locker Room

A Nicodemus humor ficlet that explores what might have happened had Lana come back. Her overtly sexual behavior actually had me laughing, instead of cringing like I did when I watched the actual episode. That's probably because paperbkryter simply rocks at comedy. The following lines alone are enough to justify reading this story:

"He fell backwards over the bench, clutching the bag to his midriff and trying desperately not to look at her. Scuttling backwards like a crab, he managed to regain his feet and duck around to the next aisle of lockers.

Sheesh, this is like being chased by the porn version of the Terminator."

LOL

2. The Art of Laughter

This is pure, sweet, fluffy Clana. And no, that's not a series of oxymorons. This story is a reminder of just how the Clana ship might actually have worked in the early seasons, before AlMiles ruined everything. Plus, it helps rectify a concern from my earlier rant, where her being a gifted art student was never mentioned until it was necessary to get her out of the country. I totally recommend this.

3. My Favorite Things

Another fluffy Clana piece that I actually bought. It really hones in on their dynamic in the first season, and while a lot of it foreshadows why they would never work in the long run, I actually found myself getting caught up in the moment. Although I must say, bringing in kittens was no fair. A box of those can help to sell anything. ;)

4. Flying Pigs Paper Hats and Pretty Girls All in a Row

Another humor fic, and one of the many reasons I ship Lexana. They just play off each other so well. Both are very serious, reserved characters most of the time, but they can also banter and distract themselves with humor. Definitely worth a read.

5. Off Course

Another Lexana fic, one that provides some very good insight as to why Lana chose to remain in Smallville, even though it contradicted nearly every word she said in the first season about wanting to leave. Oh, and Lex is such a sneaky bastard in this. I definitely recommend it.

And that's all I've got. I look forward to everybody's recs. :)

I Must Be Brainwashed

Sun, 25 May 2008 02:49:36 GMT

I totally made some little girl's day today.

How does that relate to the title, you ask? Read behind the cut to find out.

Okay, so for those of you who haven't read my intro post yet, I work at a movie theatre. I've been working there for just shy of 14 months now, and I'm going for management. My current position is Team Leader, which basically means that I'm a supervisor. I work with the Team Members, making sure that they perform their duties correctly, assigning them tasks, and making sure they go on break at an appropriate time. I also get called to resolve situations that don't necessitate a manager's involvement. This happens countless times in the course of a single shift, but certain moments stand out. This was one of them.

Whenever one of our customers comes to the theatre on their birthday, they receive a free popcorn voucher, which they redeem at the Concession stand. It usually goes off without a hitch. However, one of our customers, a girl who looked to be about twelve years old, had a slight problem: she's allergic to popcorn.

Sucks to be her, right? Well, that wasn't the whole thing. She wanted to know if, instead of popcorn, she could get some free candy instead.

Um, no.

Our candy costs anywhere from $1.50 to $4.00. If we were to give one out, without charging for it, our inventory would be off by that much. The only reason we give out free popcorn in the first place is because the bags cost practically nothing to make (the reason they're priced so high is because of what it costs to deliver them to us), and we already have a voucher system in place. There was no way I was going to be giving her candy for free, birthday or no.

Still, I wanted her to have a good experience. After all, our company's mission statement is: "To deliver the best movie-going experience at all times." That probably applies doubly for birthdays, don't you think? So I called my manager over. She agreed that we probably shouldn't be giving out free candy, but like me, she wanted to check with someone higher up to see if, just this once, it would be okay. She called our General Manager over the radio, and asked him the same thing. He said no.

End of story, right? Little girl gets nothing at all from us for her birthday, and her experience is lessened because we were too cheap to part with one box of candy. Right?

Wrong.

We were still deciding what to do, when one of the Team Members suggested that, instead of concession items, we give her a free movie instead.

Now that, I can manage.

One of the benefits of working at my theatre is that, after our first pay-raise (or after a TM gets promoted to TL), we recieve free movie passes with our paychecks, called Employee Guest Passes. Team Members get two per paycheck, Team Leaders get four. I just got paid yesterday, so I still had all four. So I pulled one out, handed it to the girl, and wished her a happy birthday.

Hip, hip, hooray.

Now how does this relate to my title? Simple: I wasn't always like this. Anybody who has ever worked at a movie theatre can probably tell you what a soul-crushing job it is. The hours are long, the pay is minimum wage, the work can be downright overwhelming if you aren't used to it, and it sucks to be yelled at by an angry customer. So you have to look for the positives. The best parts of my day, the moments I remember when I ask myself why I continue to work there, are when a customer smiles graciously and says two words:

"Thank you."

It just makes my day, knowing that I've made someone else's. The reason so many people hate working in customer service is because they're too focused on how it affects them, instead of why they're there to begin with: to make sure the customers have the best experience possible, as often as possible. To go out of your way for someone else's sake, so that their day will be that much better. I didn't get that attitude when I first watched that cheesy orientation video, but somewhere in the last year it's grown on me, and now I look forward to giving customers the best service available. It actually makes me feel pretty good about myself that I'm able to influence somebody's experience like that.

And now I can't wait for tomorrow, so that I can make somebody else's experience better. I must be crazy, right? Oh well. As long as giving rather than receiving makes me feel this good, I don't even care if I am.

Lana and What I Think of Her

Thu, 22 May 2008 11:10:29 GMT

So I've seen a lot of people's opinions on Lana, and I thought I'd make my own thoughts about her character perfectly clear. This is rather long, so I've hidden it behind a cut. Click on it to read more.

Let me start by making one thing clear: I do not hate Lana. I hate the way she's portrayed. Specifically, I hate the way that everybody treats her like a princess, the way she seems to emasculate every man she dates, and the way she never gets called on her shit. I hate the way she expects everything to be handed to her on a silver platter (although, to be fair, everything pretty much is), while at the same time she wants to be treated as capable of doing things on her own. And I especially hate how everything on Smallville seems to revolve around her, despite AlMiles' claims that it's supposed to be about a young Superman.

The saddest part? They've gotten her character exactly right. In the comics, and in the movies, she still has that same sense of entitlement; the perception that the world revolves around her. She's still spoiled, narcissistic, and impossibly high-maintenance. But those media didn't suffer for it. Smallville does.

So where did the show go wrong?

Simple: they made everything about her. In every other continuity, it was Lana who had the crush on Clark, not the other way around. The show reversed this dynamic, and thereby committed its first major mistake. Sadly, it wasn't the last.

Chloe, bless her heart, started out as fairly cautious of Lana, but soon the two developed an almost sisterly bond. Whether it was Chloe's trusting, giving nature that prompted this or simply the writers' need to make everybody worship "the princess," I don't know, but the Chloe/Lana friendship has been a staple of the show since the very first season. They went through a bit of petty rivalry in season two, but since then, Chloe's basically been reduced to a Clana cheerleader, especially in season five.

Then there's Lex. Now, it's been established that he's attracted to long-haired brunettes because they remind him of his mother, and personally I think that somebody as devious as Lana deserves someone like him, but what I can't accept is how Lex allows her to flat-out use him, while he gets comparatively little in return. Ever since he invested in The Talon (which was a losing venture at first, btw), she's been taking advantage of his thinly disguised attraction for her to basically get whatever favors she wants from him. He knows this. There's no way that someone as intelligent and cunning as Lex Luthor is going to miss the fact that he's being used. But he keeps on doing it anyway, because even though he can have any woman in the world, he'd rather set his sights on an underage high school student who has some mystical hold over men--and knows it. Lana repeatedly takes advantage of Lex, makes a fool out of him so many times over, and he just lets her, hoping that someday she'll come around.

Here's the problem with that: Lex doesn't act like that with anybody but Lana. She gets special treatment from him, just like she does from everybody else on the show. Do you want to know what's wrong with her, why so many of us hate her and wanted her to die in that explosion in Phantom? Because she's a freaking Mary-Sue. This proves it. And that's only the first piece of evidence.

Here's another: it's pretty much a pattern on the show for Clark to develop new powers each season. But notice that Lana does too. In season one, she went from being one of the worst waitresses ever at The Beanery, to managing a coffee shop all on her own! Granted, Lex helped her out (a lot, I might add), but it's still extremely hard to accept that a high school freshman would have the skills to manage a place like that by herself, even if she had her very own billionaire to bail her out when things got nasty (which they did, quite frequently too).

In season two, she learned to fight. And it wasn't just a couple of judo moves either. Nope, one lesson from Lex and suddenly she's kicking guys twice her size across the room. Granted the guy had been roughed up by Clark a couple days earlier, but come on....

Then, near the end of season three, in one of the worst MacGuffins ever, and despite the subject never having come up before, Lana suddenly develops the ability to draw. In fact, she's so good at drawing, she was able to get into an art school in freaking Paris! ZOMG! If they had at least mentioned it before, instead of just using it as an excuse to get her out of the country, then I might have bought it. As it is, it seemed forced. Probably because it was.

And don't even get me started on Isobel. Surprisingly enough, I actually found those episodes to be somewhat entertaining, as long as I forgot that I was watching Smallville. Which I honestly did. Seriously, aside from introducing the fact that magic is able to hurt Clark (as established by the comics), the whole arc is pretty much just another way for the writers to Sue Lana into episodes that she has no reason to appear in otherwise.

In season five, she's apparently smart enough to study astronomy. Astrology, I could understand, but studying space involves a ton of math, which, like the drawing, Lana showed absolutely no interest in until the plot necessitated it. It's just another example of Lana being the best at everything she does, even though she's apparently never tried it before.

Season six thankfully didn't include any Lana-Sue powers, but it did sort of tie in with her sudden hacking abilities in season seven, which she allegedly "learned from Lex." Of course. It's not like she could have just hired a team of hackers with the ten million dollars she embezzled. That would mean admitting she couldn't do something herself. *rolls eyes*

And the quality that most solidifies Lana as a Mary-Sue, is the fact that she never gets called on her crap. Ever. She locks Chloe in a freezer just to trick Clark into using his powers, endangering her friend's life just so she could see if her suspicions were correct. And even though they were, it still doesn't justify her actions. She acted selfishly to satisfy her own ends, and no one called her on it. Granted, no one really knew it was she who set it up, but still....

Then she committed multiple felonies by faking her own death, framing her husband for it, embezzling millions of dollars, and using it to spy on Lex. Clark accepted her anyway. And then when Clark was in stasis and Bizarro took his place, and she admitted to Clark after he came back that she actually liked Bizarro better, because he acted the way she wanted him to, he still didn't kick her out on her fickle, manipulative ass. Stuff like that is why I don't even want to watch season seven, because it sounds even worse than what I have seen in season six. And a lot of that stuff was pretty bad.

So to sum up: I hate Lana's portrayal, because AlMiles have written her as a Mary-Sue. I could still accept her as a character, even with all these sick, twisted, manipulative qualities, if they'd only let the other characters acknowledge them. If we were just allowed to shake our heads and go, "Silly Lana, always thinking about herself," then I wouldn't be this bitter. But I am, and it's because Lana has been sucking the life out of Smallville since Pilot. And that totally sucks.

Just found this

Wed, 21 May 2008 21:58:46 GMT

Hidden beneath the cut for size (and decency) reasons.

Seriously, WTF?

The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian

Thu, 15 May 2008 09:31:53 GMT

WARNING: The following paragraphs contain spoilers. Even though the movie has technically been released, not everyone has seen it yet. If you want to be surprised, don't click the link. You have been warned.

I've had this on friends lock for the last 24 hours, but now since the movie's been released, I'm opening it up for the public to view. Again, spoilers.

It turns out there are advantages to working at a movie theatre. I (along with about 20 other employees) just got to screen the first build of this movie, which everyone predicts will bring swarms of small children to the box office. I figured it was the only chance I'd get to see it, since we've been selling tickets to it for weeks now.

And it was worth it, believe me. I haven't read the book, which means I didn't have anything to be disappointed by. I waited for the movie like a good American.

The special effects are gorgeous of course, and the storyline is both engaging and consistently entertaining, at least by Hollywood standards. I felt as though some things were left unexplained, but like I said, I haven't read the book. It was easy enough to figure out from context anyway. You'll see what I mean.

The lead characters perform their roles well enough, but where this movie really shines is in its presentation of the side characters. They're more than just comic relief, although I do admit to laughing at Reepicheep, the mouse warrior's antics and the dry, sardonic, even morbid sense of wit about Trumpkin, the cynical red dwarf. Miraz' general is a real tragic character, and his inner conflict is actually a very compelling part of the plot. He is redeemed at the end, but I'll let you watch the movie for that.

The one thing that didn't impress me, because it felt extraneous to the rest of the plot, was the Susan/Caspian shipping. They kiss at the end, and the only reason I tolerated that was because it's implied that Susan won't be returning to Narnia. Or will she? Again, I haven't read the books. If they'd spent more time developing it and integrating it into the plot, I might be able to buy a romance between these two. Then again, like she says (just before she kisses him anyway): "It would never have worked. I am like, 1300 years older than you." I'm fine with the story hinting at what could have been, if there were any possibility there to begin with. It wasn't presented as strongly and coherently as the other elements of the film. It just felt tacked on.

All in all, I enjoyed it. I hope you guys will too.

Back to You

Tue, 13 May 2008 20:59:18 GMT

Summary: Chloe once said that she would do anything for Clark. Now it's time for her to prove it.

Okay, a few notes before I get into the story:

Despite what the summary may lead you to believe, this is NOT Chlark. Well, not romantic anyway. You'll see why in the next section. Truth be told, there aren't really any ships in this story, though there is some Clark/Lois friendship. To reveal Chloe's role would be spoiling the plot. Just wait to be surprised.

Enjoy.

There was so much blood.

Blood everywhere, staining the dank floors of the murky tunnel, swirling in strands like marble inside the snot-green water that pooled on the ground. It hadn’t come from the guard. He was merely unconscious. Whoever was bleeding had fled around the corner.

She followed the trail.

The bloody puddles grew larger the more she followed them, until they formed a solid line pointing to where the intruder had fallen and curled up to die like a wounded animal. There was something else on the ground. A phone.

Lois’ phone.

“No.”

Chloe surged forward, dropping to her knees and lifting her dying cousin into her arms. “Oh God. Lois, you're gonna be all right, okay? I'm gonna get you out—oh my God.”

That was when she saw it. The wound. It shouldn’t have surprised her, given that all the blood on the ground had to have come from somewhere, but… this made it real. She couldn’t deny this.

“Oh my God,” she repeated. “Lois. Come on, Lois. You're a fighter.” She started to shake her, wanting to believe that her cousin was only sleeping, only trying to pull one on her.

“Come on. Come on, Lois. Come on.” She said it over and over, like a chant; a prayer.

A plea.

“You're the strongest girl I know,” she continued, shaking Lois again. “Come on! Please! You can't die. I can't lose you. I love you too much. Please.”

But Lois didn’t wake. Her eyes didn’t open, the corners of her mouth didn’t twist into a wry smile, her lungs didn’t bounce and she didn’t laugh hysterically, didn’t tell her that it was all a joke. Because it wasn’t. Because she was actually dead.

Chloe shut her eyes. A tear fell. Then everything disappeared in a bright flash of white….

…light. Surrounding her. Pressing against her eyelids, assaulting her with a reddish haze. She didn’t want to open them. Didn’t want to face reality.

HONK!

Her eyes snapped open.

The tunnels were gone. Above her, Chloe saw only open sky. That and buildings. Lots of buildings.

Clutching a hand to her temple, she sat up—carefully. She looked around. She was in the middle of the street. There was a car to her left, still honking at her. She stood, waving apologetically to the driver, then scurried over to the much safer sidewalk. Once there, she leaned up against the side of a building.

How the hell had she ended up in downtown Metropolis?

Chloe rubbed the sides of her head, trying to remember what happened after the flash. But she couldn’t recall. She only remembered crying and… then she was here. Like she’d just….

‘Teleported,’ she realized, and she slumped down, clutching her knees to her chest as realization hit her.

‘Great,’ she thought, ignoring the increasingly bizarre looks that the passers-by were giving her. ‘And I thought not knowing my meteor power was bad. Now I find out I’m just like Alicia Baker.’

It all made sense now. The blonde hair, the obsession with Clark…. This was justice. She was destined to become just like the ones she had damned. She had tried to atone, tried to make up for judging them, but apparently it wasn’t enough. She was going to lose her mind, any day now. It was only a matter of time.

But right now she had a job to finish.

Shooting to her feet, she flagged down a policeman. There was something odd about his uniform, but she was in too much of a hurry to try and place it. She didn’t have any time to explain herself, so she just spat it out:

“I need to get to Reeves Dam.”

The officer arched an eyebrow. “Where?”

Chloe sighed, realizing that she should probably let this man in on what she knew. He could be trusted. “It’s where Lex Luthor’s been conducting 33.1 experiments. Experiments in human cloning.”

“Who’s Lex Luthor?”

She looked at him like he’d gone crazy. “Lionel Luthor’s son, duh! Ever since he took over LuthorCorp, he’s been carrying out experiments on meteor freaks, abducting them, and using their powers to build an army. Now he’s using alien DNA to try and make clones and….”

Now the officer was looking at her as if she’d gone crazy. But she wasn’t! He had to believe her!

“Look, Miss.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to calm down. You’re disturbing the peace.”

“Disturbing the peace?!” she shrieked, incredulous. “There won’t be any peace if Project Ares goes into full swing! I have to get to Reeves Dam so I can help stop him! Clark can’t do it alone! Lois might be dead and I….” Her eyes stung and she blinked, not wanting to cry, not wanting to show vulnerability. Because she had to be strong. “I just need your help getting there!” she finished.

The officer gripped her other shoulder. “Listen,” he said calmly, looking her in the eyes. “I’ve never heard of Reeves Dam. Lionel Luthor doesn’t have a son. There’s no such thing as clones, aliens, or… what did you call them?”

“Meteor freaks.”

“Yeah, those. Have you taken any drugs recently?”

“What?!” She recoiled from his touch, disgusted that he would even think that she, Chloe Sullivan, would…. It suddenly dawned on Chloe that this man didn’t know her. And she probably did sound a little crazy or high just babbling on like this. She took several deep breaths, then looked up.

“No,” she said on exhale, “I haven’t taken any drugs.”

The officer stepped forward, gripping her arm this time. “Well you’re obviously distressed. I’m going to take you to the hospital, see if everything’s all right up there.” He pointed to his temple, as though he thought she wouldn’t get what he was referring to. But she got it, all right. She understood exactly what he meant. And she thought it was absolutely ridiculous.

“You think I’m crazy?” She pulled back again. “I’m not crazy! The world is in danger! I have to help stop it!”

“Miss….”

“Get away from me!” she screeched, shrinking back. “If you’re not going to help, then just leave!”

“I am trying to help, Miss. I’m just going to get you to the hospital and everything will be okay.”

“No it won’t!” She was having trouble standing. She could hardly breathe. She wasn’t crazy! She had to help Clark! She had to see if Lois was okay! She had to get out of here!

“Miss, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine!” she rasped, clutching her head. At least she would be, if the damn streets would stop rocking back and forth. She lost her balance, then felt the concrete rush up and smack her in the face. But it didn’t bring her wits back. It only made her more confused.

“Miss!” His voice sounded far away, as though she’d somehow fallen into a well. But she was still on the sidewalk.

She knew that because her palms still stung, having taken the brunt of the impact when she’d toppled. The pain was fading rapidly, replaced by a growing numbness. She pushed against the earth, managing to slide her knees under her hips, before depositing her last meal on the pavement.

Then she collapsed again, and everything went black.

It was the dripping that woke her.

All the other details, such as the fact that she was on the floor, covered in dirt and sewage, didn’t occur to her until she opened her eyes. But the leaky ceiling was what had roused her to begin with. Everything else came after that.

Groaning, Lois sat up. She rubbed her temples, trying to remember how she’d gotten here. This definitely wasn’t a nookie motel, and she wasn’t lying in bed naked next to some stranger, so at least she knew that her epic headache wasn’t indicative of a hangover. This was confirmed when she found a lump on the side of her head, probably received when she fell down and got knocked out in the first place.

She looked around. Somehow she got the feeling that someone else should be here with her. With a mighty effort, and despite feeling like she’d just drunk a gravel smoothie, she managed to rasp out a name:

“Chloe?”

Lois shook her head. Out of all the names, why that one? Chloe wasn’t here. She was somewhere safe. She could sense it.

Grunting, she eventually stood up, though not without a fight. She found it odd that she would be so fatigued. Even though she still slumbered until the late afternoon whenever she could get away with it, she always woke up feeling refreshed and energized. But right now she felt absolutely horrible. Like she’d just….

‘Died,’ she realized, and then the memories returned.

The guard. The knife. The wound in her side. She lifted up her shirt, looking down at the exposed skin there.

It was unscathed.

There was blood of course, but the puncture wound was just… gone. As though it had never existed. If she didn’t distinctly remember being stabbed and the blood wasn’t there to serve as a physical reminder that she had, in fact, spilled her life fluids all over the floor just a few minutes ago, Lois wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Hell, if this wasn’t Smallville, and she didn’t know that weird and scientifically inexplicable things happened on a regular basis, she would have just counted herself lucky. After all, it wasn’t wise to look a gift horse in the mouth.

But what if that mouth held all the answers?

Shrugging, she determined that she would figure it out later. The answers she was after right now were far more important.

Calling upon the full extent of her combat training, Lois started walking. The pain receded with every step she took, until it was every bit as nonexistent as the wound that had almost killed her. After a few minutes of sneaking, she found what she was looking for.

There was a heavy metal door at the end of the hall, about thirty feet away. That was the lab. That was where they had turned Wes into… whatever the hell he’d been before he died. She was sure of it.

She noticed a keypad next to the door, and found herself wishing that Chloe were here, or even Smallville. He had always had a way with locked doors. She’d never cared enough about him to ask how he did it before, and she wouldn’t even ask now if he were just here to somehow open it for her. But no, she was going to have to do this on her own.

Lois smiled. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sticking to the shadows, Lois crept along. The halls intersected about ten feet from the door, meaning that she would have to be cautious not to alert anybody who might be waiting in the other hallway. With that in mind, she sunk lower to the floor.

How was she going to get the door open? She didn’t have her cousin’s mad hacking skills, and she didn’t possess Kent’s farmboy intuition (or was it just dumb luck?), so she needed to think fast.

The door opened suddenly, and Lois remembered her own lucky streak. Her grin turned predatory when she identified the bald billionaire who seemed to be fleeing the lab.

“Luthor,” she sneered, and prepared to rush her adversary.

Before she had the opportunity to charge him, however, there was a blast of wind, and in less than a second, Lex was pinned up against the wall. That didn’t shock Lois nearly as much as exactly who was doing the pinning.

“Smallville?”

She had whispered, so she didn’t think either man noticed her presence yet. She decided to watch for now.

“She was your wife, Lex.” Clark snarled, tightening his grip on Lex’s collar.

For once, Lex didn’t seem eager to talk. “Now is not the time to lecture me about my marriage Clark.”

“Why did you do it? Just tell me.”

Lex struggled, but Kent’s grip didn’t falter. “Get your hands off me!”

Clark only squeezed tighter. “You afraid she was gonna bring you down, or was it just too humiliating for you that she was gonna leave you? Why'd you have to kill her? Why?”

“What are you talking about?” the billionaire choked.

“You already know,” accused Clark, leaning closer. “Lana is dead.”

Ten feet away, Lois was floored. And yet, at the same time, she wasn’t surprised in the least. ‘Serves the crazy bitch right,’ she thought. Unlike her cousin, Lois had absolutely zero tolerance for Lana’s manipulative “fairy princess” routine. She’d only put up with the girl because Chloe seemed to be her personal cheerleader, even though it was clear that she resented Lana on some level. She’d never acknowledge it of course, because Chloe was too nice for that; too noble. She always put others first. Always assumed their burdens. It was just the kind of person she was.

Lana had taken advantage of that. She’d unloaded all her insecurities, all her petty frustrations, all her huffy indignation at being treated like a fairy princess when deep down she relished the attention, and she’d never given Chloe anything in return. Hadn’t even offered. Chloe was just a stress ball for Lana to squeeze whenever her weepy soap opera of a life got to be too much for even her to handle. It broke Lois’ heart to see how Chloe just took it all, turned the other cheek, tried to stay loyal, hoping it would all pay off someday. Lois knew it wouldn’t. But she wasn’t about to ask Chloe to stop being herself.

And as for what she’d done to Clark…. Lois didn’t particularly like the farmboy, but even he didn’t deserve to go through what Lana had pulled. And just what the hell did she expect, getting involved with a Luthor? Lana deserved whatever had happened, as far as Lois was concerned. She’d brought it on herself.

Something seemed to break in Lex and she watched his eyes widen in horror as the revelation hit him. If she hadn’t known just how gifted—and motivated—of an actor Lex was, she might have believed that he was genuinely shocked at the news.

Might have. But probably wouldn’t.

“No,” was all he said in response.

“No.” Clark caught the denial, then hurled it back at him. “You don't need to act so surprised. You're the one who killed her. You put a bomb in her car. You're the one who killed her!” For a moment it looked like he was actually going to strangle Lex, and Lois found herself debating whether or not she should stop him.

On the one hand, she wanted to see Luthor dead. This had nothing to do with his calling her a “muffin peddler,” nor his habit of digging a little too deeply into the personal lives of everyone in Smallville. Those things she could deal with and not want to split his bald skull open like a watermelon. It was because of what he’d done; what he’d turned Wes into just to satisfy his own selfish ends. It was about vengeance and settling the score.

But she also knew that Clark Kent was not a murderer. Revenge wasn’t the way he operated. Lois was suddenly reminded of the only other time that she had seen Clark like this. It was when Tim Westcott had begun his misguided and short-lived crusade to restore Smallville to moral righteousness by attempting to murder Lana, and then Jason, before finally succeeding with Alicia Baker, hanging her from one of the rafters in her own barn. Clark had been so wounded by the experience of seeing the woman he loved murdered, that he had attempted to do the same thing to Tim. He had very nearly succeeded.

Lois had stopped him then. Would she do the same now?

Yes, she decided, standing up; she would. If anybody was going to get revenge against Lex for what he’d done, it would be her. She was the vengeful one. She was the one who equated justice with reprisal. She would see him suffer for what he’ done. But she wouldn’t watch it. Not when she wasn’t the one causing it. And definitely not when the most righteous person she knew was. She had to stop this.

She had just started towards them when the door opened again, and a tiny figure stood silhouetted in front of a blinding light. Fog billowed out into the corridor, and Lois noted that the figure was a small boy. She briefly wondered when her life had suddenly become a low-budget remake of The Grudge.

“Get out of here,” said Lex, inclining his head towards… what exactly was it, anyway? It couldn’t have just been a boy. He must be possessed. “He’ll kill us both.”

Lois smirked at the realization that Lex still hadn’t noticed her. Then again, she had to admit that a creepy demon boy was pretty damn distracting. She sincerely hoped that it didn’t notice her either.

“He is right,” the boy said in a voice so deep that it was just inhuman, confirming his status as a demon. “At last… a Kryptonian.”

A what? Lois barely had time to reflect on what the demon meant by that when the boy suddenly opened his mouth, spewing out what appeared at first like a dark cloud, which quickly formed non-corporeal appendages that somewhat resembled arms, as well as a devilish face. It rushed towards Clark, who released Lex, and the billionaire broke out running.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ Lois thought determinedly, exploding into a mad dash of her own. Within moments she had intercepted him. She stuck out her leg, and his extreme momentum caused him to flip once before landing hard on his back. His hairless head bounced twice on the concrete, knocking him out cold.

Lois dusted her hands off, smirking proudly. “Stay there,” she ordered the unconscious billionaire, then turned her head around to look for Clark.

“Smallville?” she called, but no one answered.

She heard footsteps behind her and whirled around, raising her fists. Whoever was stupid enough to come in here would probably be safer if she incapacitated them. But when she saw who it was, she lowered her hands. She wouldn’t knock this one out just yet.

“Lionel,” she deadpanned. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but then again you’re so involved in your son’s life I'll bet you sometimes wish you had tits.”

Lionel blinked. Then his face contorted as he tried to make sense of what she’d just said. “What?”

“That was a breastfeeding joke.”

“Oh, right, right,” he said hurriedly, not even bothering to retort. Now her face was wrinkled in confusion. Lionel Luthor never failed to retaliate, even against such a bewildering insult. Something must have deeply unsettled Lionel for him to lose his focus like this. “Have you seen Clark?”

So that was it then. Yeah, she was a bit unsettled too at the moment thanks to the farmboy. Not that Lionel needed to know that.

She crossed her arms. “I might have. Shouldn’t you be more worried about your son?” She nodded her head to where Lex lay sprawled on the ground, still unconscious.

Lionel turned, and leapt with surprise. He hadn’t even seen him there when he entered. Just what exactly had him so upset that he wouldn’t notice his own son?

“Miss Lane,” he said, nearly panicked, “I need you to tell me where Clark is. The world could be in danger.”

“From what?” She’d had enough of being kept out of the loop. She was going to get her answers before she let him pass. If she let him pass.

“I don’t have time to explain, I….” His eyes widened, and he pointed just over her shoulder. “There.”

Even though her instincts told her that Lionel was just trying to distract her, Lois looked. No matter how distressed he seemed at the moment, Lionel was too sophisticated in his trickery to try pulling that one. Besides, she was curious. So she turned around.

And then she saw it.

A hole.

That hadn’t been there before. Did that thing make it? She somehow doubted that was the whole story. Sure, the wraith was probably involved, but… there was something else going on here. And Lois was determined to find out what.

By the time she turned around again, Lionel was already dashing towards the opening. She ran after him, but he got there first. She ducked through and when she looked up, her eyes were met with a cavernous space that she recognized as a generator room.

She looked around, trying to find where Lionel had gone. She saw him to her left, next to… Clark? Something seemed different about the farmboy. Why were his clothes suddenly so dark?

“Clark. Son,” she heard Lionel say. Lois rolled her eyes. What was it with evil billionaires and delusions of grandeur? “What is it?” he finished.

“That’s not me,” said a voice came from her right, and she turned to see Clark… again. This time his clothes were the right color, though. “It’s the Phantom.”

The… what? She looked between them, amazed that none of the men in the room seemed to notice her yet.

The Phantom got up. “How do you like my new look?” he said, gesturing widely, like he was trying to give his own giant ego a great big hug. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t Smallville.

Lionel moved suddenly, reaching into the box that she hadn’t noticed up to this point and producing… a meteor rock? What did he plan on doing with that? He thrust it towards the Phantom’s chest, and the dark-clad doppelganger seemed almost… drawn to it.

Ever since she came to Smallville, and especially during the last year, Lois had seen a lot of strange things. She had seen barn doors fall from the sky. She had been kidnapped by a modern day Robin Hood with a green leather fetish. She had even kissed said Robin Hood, and then seen him run away at the speed of light. But none of that compared to what she was witnessing now.

The meteor rock started glowing, and energy seemed to flow from it into the Phantom’s chest. After a few moments, it was completely drained, and now it appeared to be no different from an ordinary crystal.

Letting out a satisfied breath, the Phantom turned to Lionel. “Thanks,” he said, grabbing him by the shoulder. “That’s just what I needed.”

Before any of them could react, Lionel was thrown against the wall, and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

Clark, still too focused on the Phantom to even notice her, swallowed and inquired: “What the hell are you?”

“I’m you,” the Phantom answered, grinning devilishly. “Only a little more bizarre.” Then he started to run at Clark, who did the same.

Lois didn’t know what the hell was going on anymore, but she knew she couldn’t stand back anymore. “Smallville, look out!”

They both stopped.

And turned.

Smiling sheepishly, she made a nervous wave with her hand. “Um… hi.”

The Phantom grinned lasciviously, turning and slicking back his hair. For a moment, she thought she saw his eyes turn orange. But only for a moment. “Why hello there,” he crooned, his voice heavy with lust. “Come here often?”

Lois blinked. Was this thing hitting on her? His colossally inappropriate timing, not to mention the fact that he looked a little too much like Clark, kept her from being flattered. Instead she was flabbergasted beyond words.

“Uh… I… er… um….”

“Whaddaya say we ditch this place?” the Phantom offered, swaggering closer and still grinning like a demon. “I wanna explore this new planet. Wanna be my tour guide?”

She commanded her legs to kick him in the nutsack, or at the very least carry her far away from here, but they wouldn’t respond. It was like being stared down by a cobra—she was afraid to make any sudden movements, for fear that he would strike.

Before she could even get her next breath out, Clark was suddenly between them. “Back off,” he ordered.

The Phantom laughed, but obeyed. “Fine then. I’m bored with this anyway. Catch you later.” He crouched low to the floor.

And then he flew away.

She barely saw it happen. One moment his feet were on the ground, and the next there was a hole in the ceiling, and the Phantom was gone.

They stared after it for several moments before Lois turned to Clark, and scowled. “Alright farmboy!” she bellowed, stabbing a finger in the direction of the dam’s new skylight. “What the hell was THAT?!”

Fantards

Mon, 12 May 2008 21:17:29 GMT

Looks like you were right, Toby. Them nutcases are everywhere. Take a look at this.

I was having a discussion with my friends earlier this week. There was no need to create the Chloe character and now she is a part of why Clark is now viewed by many posters as weak. He depends on her way too much. She constantly does his thinking for him. Its annoying. Very annoying. Its like she is his crutch

Um... WTF? How was there "no need" to create her character? If I remember correctly, AlMiles created Chloe because DC wouldn't let them use Lois Lane at first. So, they designed her to be a sort of proto-Lois Lane, without actually being Lois herself. Many of her characteristics are patterned after ILL, and while her character's ultimate destination was undecided at that point, she was, at the very least, supposed to get Clark to realize that smart, snarky reporter girls are his type, so that he would eventually fall in love with her cousin, Lois. How is any of that unnecessary?

If anything, Chloe has helped Clark's character to develop. She's his closest friend, his secret-keeper, and the person who pushes him into action more often than not. She doesn't put up with his crap, and even though sometimes it may seem like she just magically comes up with the answer, all she really does is point Clark in the right direction. After that it's up to him and his superpowers to save the day.

If anyone has ruined Clark's character on the show, it's Lana. She's taken advantage of his blind loyalty so many times it's not even worth mentioning, because it's so damn obvious. Everybody and their hamster knows by now that she's no good for him. Not everyone acknowledges it, but it's common knowledge that Lana is the worst thing to ever happen to him.

Bah.

My Fanfic Pet Peeves

Mon, 12 May 2008 07:58:30 GMT

This is an older rant, and it's already prominently displayed on my ffnet profile, but I thought I'd put it here because it covers a lot of relevant (and annoying) topics that can never get enough attention. So I'm reposting it. Hope you enjoy.

There are certain trends in fanfiction that really get under my skin and annoy me. I've chosen to list them here. These are in no particular order.

1. "Popular" authors, or authors who pander to their audience. These are the folks that demand a certain amount of reviews before they go to the next chapter, take suggestions from brain-dead audience members, and care more about popularity than telling a good story. These folks almost always fade away because readers get sick of their demands for attention and go off to find the people who actually write good stories. Good stories will always become popular because they are well-written.

2. People who go on and on about their "style." Oh, so you've got this great new experimental writing style that you think is so cool that it takes precedent over your story, huh? Well, unless you're already famous, FORGET IT. We want to read a good story, not listen to you prattle on about your "style." I've never praised a story on writing style alone. There's usually some supporting framework, such as plot, characterization, etc. If all you've got is your "style," well then you'll go out of style quickly, my friend.

3. Stories and/or chapters that are posted before they're ready. I once read a fanfic where the spelling and grammar were horrible, the characterization was bad, and overall it just plain sucked. I put this as gently as I could in my review, and I got the reply, "Oh, this is just a rough draft." Well then why in God's name was it posted? Seriously, you should never post a chapter until it's ready to stand on its own. Rough drafts aren't what gets published in actual book-writing, and the same applies to fanfiction. The only time I want to read a rough draft is when I'm beta-reading for somebody. If it's published, I assume that what you have posted is the finished product.

4. Talking heads. Dialogue should not exist separate from the prose. When characters talk, they move, sway, blink, gesture, etc. Actions speak louder than words. Sometimes the best thing to have a character say is nothing at all, but simply to describe how they act. I understand that writing is not a visual medium, but if you remember to include character actions along with the dialogue, it will seem that much more like a real conversation.

5. Gratuitous sex, violence, etc. I don't mind reading about these concepts (or writing them, for that matter), so long as they serve the story and they're in-character. Have a REASON for including controversial material. I follow one rule above all others when writing: if it serves the story, put it in. If it doesn't, leave it out. No exceptions.

6. People censoring themselves. This goes hand in hand with #5. You should always USE THE WORDS YOU MEAN. Don't apologize. I follow a bit of advice that is best summarized by my pastor: "If I haven't offended at least one person, I haven't done my job." People are going to disagree with you. What's important is how you deal with those people.

7. Authors who forget that the readers are not psychic. If you forgo description in your story, you're setting yourself up big time. I want to be able to imagine the scene as though I had written it myself. You're essentially taking the movie playing in your head and putting it down on paper. Remember, I don't know what you were thinking when you wrote that; you have to convey your message in such a way that I'm not left wondering what the hell was going through your mind at the time.

8. Stories that go too fast. I hate it when I come across a story that has potential, only to find that the author has wasted it because they're in some sort of rush to get it finished. Remember, this is fanfiction; YOU'RE NOT GETTING PAID, so you can take as long as you want. If the characterization isn't right, or you feel that you didn't explore an idea as much as you could have, SLOW THE HELL DOWN. Take your time. I'd rather read a good story than one that's updated quickly.

9. Authors who assume we know the characters. Okay, so this is fanfiction, and a lot of us already know who the characters are, but we're dealing with YOUR INTERPRETATION. If a character acts differently than they do in canon, explain it. Don't assume that we know how you see each character; tell us. This will also help those who have not seen the show to not feel left out. You should approach the characters as though your audience has only a casual knowledge of the show.

10. Emotion-swifties. Words like angrily, sadly, happily, etc. that people use when they're too lazy to actually describe the emotion. You want to make your readers feel with the characters, and as such, "...she said angrily" just doesn't cut it. What about the physical cues? Is she growling the words? Is she squeezing her hands so tightly that the nails dig into her flesh until she bleeds? Those are pretty obvious signs that she's angry. You can also construct the dialogue to reflect this without actually having to state that character X is angry.

That's another thing that bugs me: when people literally say, "He was angry." That shows no imagination at all. We should be able to tell that he's angry from the way that the vein in the center of his forehead is bulging, his teeth are ground tight together and the way he's growling like a rottweiler.

11. Using italics to denote dreams/flashbacks/memories/whatever. You are a writer; you should be using contextual clues to indicate where the reader is in the story, not typographical ones. Italicized flashbacks are a slap in the face when reading. It tells me that you don't think I'm smart enough to know that what I'm reading is a flashback, and consequently takes me out of the story. Flashbacks, used properly, can come as an absolute shock to the reader, but not when you announce it with a section break and all-italics. It's just too obvious.

12. Starting each scene with the location/time in bold. Unless you're writing fanfiction for J.A.G. or some such show that already uses that style, forget about it. It's annoying, and often pointless unless the tone of your story is heavily inspired by other works that use that style. I just see it tossed all over the place nowadays. It's just stupid at this point.

Fetter (Part 2)

Sun, 11 May 2008 04:36:15 GMT

Part 2. This ranks a little higher on the kink scale, but I hope the end makes up for it.

He laughed. “What’s it look like?”

“It looks like one of Lana’s pompons got possessed by the Devil.”

“Actually I got this from Lois.”

“So many levels of ew!” she screeched, closing her eyes and wishing she knew where Kevin Grady, the mind-wiping meteor mutant was. She opened them after discovering that it actually made the mental images worse. “So you’ve got a whip. How creative.”

“It’s not a whip,” he corrected her, running his fingers through the dozen or so leather strands. “It’s called a flogger.”

“And you know this how?”

“It was still unopened when I took it from her stuff. Came with an instruction manual and everything.”

“You read it, I hope? Or are you just like every other guy and you want to figure it out as you go?”

“I have mastered most of my powers through trial-and-error,” he reminded her. “But I knew I could end up crippling you or worse if I wasn’t careful….”

“Man of Steel, Women of Kleenex,” Chloe supplied.

He chuckled, then continued: “…so I figured I had to know what I was doing. I practiced on sandbags.”

“Is that what I am to you now? Your first line of defense against a flood?”

He moved closer to her and cupped her chin, and for a moment she saw the red disappear and it was Clark who spoke to her: “You’re so much more than that.”

Chloe looked down at her nudity and smiled. “Clearly.” At his grin, she continued: “So what exactly am I, then? A practice model? Someone for you to play around with so you won’t rip Lana apart when you finally tear her away from Lex?”

He frowned. “I told you I’m over her.”

“And I don’t believe you. It’s always been about her, Clark. She still has some kind of weird hold over you, even now. The red meteor rocks don’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“Which means that I actually want to be using this on you,” he riposted, ruffling the flogger just a bit. “Desires change, Chloe. People change. I don’t love Lana. I just had a crush on her for so long I obsessed over her out of habit. But she chose Lex. I’m done with her.”

“For how long? How long until you bust through the doors to the chapel, saying that those two shouldn’t be married because you and Lana are still in love? I just know that’s what’s going to happen, and I’m not going to let you break my heart again. Now let me down from here.”

He smirked. “As you wish.”

She felt cold steel pushing up against her breasts before she could even draw her next breath. Her feet barely touched the straw-covered ground, and her legs had somehow been splayed apart. Her arms were stretched across the table-saw, tied into the grooves.

Damn superspeed.

“So not what I meant!” she growled, and she heard him laugh.

“I’m a letter of the law kinda guy.”

“If I had a chunk of Kryptonite right now I swear I’d—” A loud THWACK! cut off the rest of her words and she screamed as icy talons raked across her flesh, leaving a sweltering sting in their wake.

“No you wouldn’t,” she heard him say, while she tried hard not to whimper. “You always said Lana was the master of denial, but you’re lying to yourself, Chlo. So we’re gonna play a little game.”

“Oh, so you’re Georgie Porgie now?”

“Huh?”

She laughed. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew he was scrunching his brow in confusion. Red Kryptonite might alter his behavior, but her references would always go way over Clark’s head.

“I know you’re not much for pudding and pie, but you seem to do a lot of kissing girls and making them cry.”

“Nursery rhymes. Cute.” She felt the unnatural heat emanating from his torso as he leaned over and whispered into her ear: “But you haven’t cried yet, have you? You always were strong, Chlo.”

“Had to be to keep up with you.”

She heard him chuckle. “Then maybe this’ll be even more fun than I thought. Do you wanna hear the rules?”

“Do I get a choice?”

“Admit it: you’re curious. “

“I always am.”

“So then you wanna play?”

“Depends. What are the rules?”

She heard and felt a WHOOSH! of air and suddenly her entire world was red and blue. Then Kal backed up a few inches so that she could see his face. “You’re always pushing me, Chlo. Pushing me to realize the truth, to be proud of who I am. You never let me lie to myself.”

“Damn straight.”

He grinned and stood up, placing the flogger behind his back and starting to pace. “I mentioned role-reversal before, didn’t I?”

“Everything but the fangs. I’d ask if you’re going anywhere with this, but you seem to be in a monologuing mood tonight.”

He leaned close to her again, and she smelled spicy cinnamon where before she had known only mint. “That’s not the only mood I’m in.”

“Oh yeah, you’re also in a ‘use Chloe as a plaything’ mood.”

“I don’t see you objecting to it.”

“Kinda hard when your puppet master is a Kryptonian.”

“And that,” he said, moving his arm so fast she barely had time to brace for impact, “is an example of what’s against the rules.” She grunted, trying to ignore the pain as he continued: “You’ve always stood up to me before, even after you knew I had powers.”

“So, what? Every time I talk bad about myself I get smacked on the ass?”

“You always were intuitive,” he said, grinning. “That applies to comments about me and Lana too. I told you, I’m over her. Every time you insist otherwise, I’m gonna make it painful.”

“Aversion therapy, huh?” He nodded. “Sounds like a fun game, but you know I don’t always follow the rules.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” he said, idly twirling the flogger. “You’ve never been the good girl. You’re not evil, but you do have a tendency to be rather naughty. Or I suppose you don’t remember the parasite either?”

“Say, how did you get on Red Kryptonite this time anyway?” she asked.

“Does it really matter?”

“It does if I’m gonna get you off of it.”

“Oh, but the fun’s just getting started!” He gestured widely. “Now are you gonna be a good girl, or do you need a little discipline?”

Chloe couldn’t keep herself from snorting. “Gawd, how many bad porn films have you watched?”

“None. You know my other side. The worst I ever had was a Victoria’s Secret catalog, and that was in seventh grade. I think if my mom ever found a Playboy under my bed she’d do a dance of joy and buy me a subscription.”

“Your mom is special.”

“She’s also at a charity ball this evening, which means she won’t be home until late. I plan on using that time to show you just how much I care about you.”

“Yeah, because love is hogtying people to table-saws and smacking them on the ass.”

He leaned in close. “After I make them come. Admit it, you loved that part.”

She nodded. “And I’d much prefer that to this little game you’ve come up with. Did I ever tell you about my dad’s aversion to spanking? I was one of those rare kids that actually listened to reason, and he never wanted to hurt me like that. Simply put, my ass is anything but prepared for this.” He chuckled at the pun, and she rolled her eyes. “Combine that with your strength and it’ll be weeks before I can even wear pants.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I'll bet,” she snarked. “But I’m game if you are.”

He grinned. “You are the best friend ever.”

“You’re lucky you’re so sexy right now or I’d pummel you with Kryptonite the second you let me go.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

“I’m eye-level with that redwood in your pants. Color me aroused.”

As if to tease her, he moved out of her sight, and she followed the sound of his boots. “What about Jimmy? Do you still love him?”

And with that, Chloe was reminded of how quickly Kal shifted gears. He could be a little hard to follow, whereas with Clark it was always an exercise in getting him to catch up. She frowned. “Please tell me this isn’t about that.”

SMACK!

She yowled, struggling against the ropes, thrashing around in a futile attempt to avoid the pain. Fire lanced through her body; made her flesh sting and her eyes wet. She whimpered.

“Answer the question, Chloe! Why did you start dating him in the first place? Was it because you actually like him or to make me jealous?”

Now that the pain had mostly subsided, she could speak without sounding like she was about to cry. “I thought he was kind of cute….”

SLAP!

“Was it to make me jealous? Yes or no?”

Her backside felt like it had been dipped in magma, and she couldn’t stop the words that came out of her mouth: “Yes, alright?! Yes, I lost my virginity to him because I was trying to convince myself that I was over you!”

“And what about Dark Thursday, huh? Did you really mean what you said about not expecting us to hook up?”

“Clark, please don’t make me answer that….”

WHACK!

“Did you?! Or was it just another one of your defense mechanisms? Another way to get back at me for what I put you through with Lana? You already did it with him to make me jealous once, why not make him your boyfriend and really rub it in my face?!”

And even though she got the feeling that he was just getting started, Chloe couldn’t take it anymore. She could handle the physical pain; her cheeks were nowhere near raw, though it did smart a little. It was the way he combined it with hurtful accusations that made those scant few moments truly excruciating. It was so unexpected, so unlike Clark, that he had managed to completely blindside her and render her helpless against his assault in less than a minute.

For lack of anything better to do, Chloe started to cry. “Clark, why are you asking me all this?”

“Why aren’t you fighting back? You know you could.”

And he was right, of course. Even caught off balance, she had always possessed the remarkable ability to regain her footing and hold her own in any conversation. She’d won arguments against both Luthors—surely her big dumb alien friend was no match for her in the wits department.

But he was like a completely different person right now, and it took her time to adjust.

Not that it made her response any less immediate. “Why bring it up?”

“Why not defend yourself?”

And just as she was powerless to reign in her earlier orgasm, she couldn’t stop the confession that the final SMACK! of the flogger forced from her lips.

“Because I did want us to hook up!” she screeched, crystal tears staining her face and thickening her voice to where she was nigh incomprehensible. “I might not have expected it, but I still wanted it! But it was just like after the fucking twisters! I fucking lied to your face and you fucking believed me! For a guy who can see through anything, you are beyond dense!”

It felt good to finally say that, she realized as catharsis washed over her and swept away the need for tears. Kal brought out another side of her that Clark never could; a side she never wanted to reveal. He got her to lower her inhibitions, just like the Red Kryptonite had his. She was, after all, naked and tied down to a table-saw and almost totally fine with it. He just had that effect on her.

He also got her to open up, to say what she really felt. She never put up with Clark’s crap, and while he was Kal, their relationship seemed to work in reverse. He was the one forcing the big confessions out of her right now. He was the one in charge. Clark would never have done any of this. He probably wouldn’t have managed much more tonight than to call her. But when he was like this, nothing was impossible.

Finally, she heard him laugh. “That’s more like it,” he said.

She felt his otherworldly heat envelop her as his chest touched her back and she realized that he had removed the leather vest. Soft wisps of hot air danced like tiny fires against her cheek, and she couldn’t stop herself from quivering. “Do you understand the game now?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded.

“Do you wanna know your prize?” He nuzzled the back of her neck, and her vertebrae danced.

“Mm-hmm.” Kal started kissing her nape, grabbing bits of flesh between his teeth and teasing her with his tongue. His lips blazed a trail down her spine, along the sweat-soaked ridges of her back, down to where fresh welts shouted protesting signals at her brain and she had to clench her teeth to keep from screaming. Instead, she hissed.

She felt his hands then, experienced the talented touch of his fingers as they massaged her beaten flesh. She grimaced, then gasped as she felt something enter her, something warm and wet and… she ran out of adjectives just as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

Oh God, was he…?

She didn’t have time to consider what he might be doing back there; only what she felt. And it felt amazing. Vibrant sensation rippled forth from that central point, the site of the invasion, making her thrash and scream as strong hands parted her, bunching her skin and bringing two diametrically opposite forces into overwhelming coexistence.

Pleasure and pain, side by side. They overlapped, bursting through the levees and bleeding over. They were like two serpents swallowing each other’s tails: it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other….

The intruder twitched before she could finish the cliché. Rational thought abandoned her, leaving her with only whimsical speculation supplied by the flurry of metaphors that never left her writers’ mind. Was it a musician, stroking at her inner chords like a lyrist’s pick? Was it a serpent, seeking to corrupt her womb?

Or was it something more than that? Something ethereal, not even to be dreamt of? Something even she couldn’t quite put into words?

And as it stirred within her, radiating hope and life and warmth, she knew that it was. She knew that it made her complete.

Then she became less concerned with what it was, and focused more on how it made her feel. Her flesh screamed at her, hurling protests as the deluge of sensation threatened to drown her where she stood, restrained. Powerless. Vulnerable.

Completely at his mercy.

The realization awoke something primal in her and she grunted, pushing back against the onslaught, driving him deeper. He responded, gripping her tighter and making her shout. She felt the water swelling, felt the imminent flood that lay just beyond her walls. Her body needed release, but she wasn’t ready. Not yet. Make him work for it. Make him prove himself. Make me scream!

And that’s exactly what she did.

The dam burst and she spilled over him, felt herself drain into his waiting mouth. Even then he didn’t quit, didn’t stop sucking away at her like she was his only sustenance, his only source of life. His attention filled her, kept her from emptying completely. She closed her eyes and imagined a world where nothing existed but this feeling; where nothing mattered except moments like this; where everything else faded into obscurity.

And when she breathed out, she felt soft fabric soaking up the sweat from her back, supporting her body as she lay down to rest. A chill breeze swept over her skin, gifting her with the tranquility of the cool spring night. There was no emptiness, no abyss. There was only the feeling of achievement; the feeling of victory over the greatest ordeal.

When it subsided, and she could think clearly again, she opened her eyes to find herself on the loft’s couch. Kal sat next to her, still wearing that demon’s smirk.

“Gawd, Clark,” she breathed. “That was amazing.”

“You’re the one who always told me: ‘The truth shall set you free.’”

“Well, your parents were a little too busy with an alien cover-up to bother with that particular platitude,” she said, grinning stupidly and not giving a damn about it. “So why am I suddenly unfettered?”

He grinned. “I figured you’d want your hands for this one.”

“Eh?”

There was a WHOOSH! and suddenly Clark’s pants were banished, to return when the festivities were over. She looked at the sight before her and tried not to think of a bunch of euphemisms that were bound to make her head explode (ah, crap…).

And then she repeated the famous line Madeline Kahn spoke—or grunted, depending on how you looked at it—in Young Frankenstein:

“Woof.”

He chuckled. “I’d tell you to roll over, but I’ve got another trick I want you to do first.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing the urge to laugh hysterically. “And what’s that?”

“Get on your knees.”

She blinked. He never had been good at segues. “What?”

“I’m tired of just giving. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m about ready to explode over here. I could use a little help.”

Chloe laughed. “Can Kryptonians even get blue balls?”

He shrugged. “You’re always using your mouth for something, Chlo. Even when I make you speechless, you still won’t shut up. I want to see what other talents your tongue has.” His grin was lecherous, and she flushed.

“Alright,” she said after a moment, “I see where you’re going with this. You don’t think it’s fair that I got to come twice and you want your turn. Am I right?”

His smirk told her all she needed to know.

Okay, then. She could do this. She could forget about preserving their friendship for one night. Red Kryptonite be damned: Clark had earned this for all the times he’d saved her life, not to mention the whole other world he’d just shown her. She could at least return the favor.

Slinking off the couch, she kneeled before him. Grabbing him in her hand, she pronounced her fate with two simple words:

“I’m ready.”

Fetter (Part 1)

Sun, 11 May 2008 04:25:43 GMT

WARNING:

This is porn. Well, I guess it technically qualifies as Erotica, since there aren't really any dirty words (everything is pretty much implied), but it still contains pages upon pages of graphic sex. Therefore, I've labeled it as containing Explicit Adult Content. If you're under 18, sorry, but you shouldn't be reading this.

Also, this story contains BDSM themes, and even though it's pretty tame compared to some of the things I've read, it's not for everybody. If you aren't into kink, I strongly suggest that you stop reading now.

Everyone else, enjoy.

This story is a WIP that I have going on at KryptonSite, and I figured I'd bring it over here to give it more exposure (yes, I intended to make that pun). It takes place during late season six, sometime between Crimson and Trespass. It features Red K!Clark, aka Kal. I recognize that some fans prefer to think of the two terms as separate, since he only went by Kal during Exile, but I've made it so that he assigned that name to his Red K persona permanently, and goes by that name whenever he's high. It makes them easier to distinguish.

Heath Ledger Joker: And here... we... go.

She tasted pennies.

At first she thought it might be blood. Maybe she’d cut her lip on the way here, or she’d been roughed up a bit more than she remembered. But when she licked her lips and found them absent of anything but her strawberry lip gloss (mmm…), she quickly ruled it out.

So then why were her poor taste buds being tormented by copper? Had she swallowed all the loose change in her purse? What happened?

Wait. She remembered something. Walking out of the Planet. Getting into her car. Putting the keys in the ignition.

Feeling like she was inside a washing machine.

Wait, what? Oh, right, the world was spinning. It had taken her a second to realize there was a rag over her face, which explained why her lungs were going on strike until they got the oxygen they needed. Oxygen that she couldn’t quite supply. The world became a silhouette and her vision faded entirely to black. That was the last thing she remembered.

Chloroform. Odorless, but it left a bitter aftertaste exactly like the one in her mouth right now. She was getting better at handling it, having been exposed to it so many times before, but it was still nasty. If only it were possible to develop an immunity….

She pulled the brake cord on that train of thought, then quickly hopped across the tracks. Potential Nobel Prize-winning ideas later. Right now she had to focus on getting out of here.

Speaking of which, where exactly was “here?”

It was then that she noticed the blindfold. Her eyes were open, and chloroform had never rendered her sightless before, so it must be her captor’s way of keeping her in the dark. Great. Last time she was blindfolded she’d been buried alive, and very nearly died. Thankfully her own personal superhero had been there to save her. Where was he now?

She tried to move, unsurprised to find the task impossible. She was mildly displeased by the way her bare ass scraped against the wood, but the bonds were an expected, if extremely unpleasant development.

Wait, bare ass?

That explained why she felt so cold. She was naked. How exciting.

So not only had she been kidnapped, but her nabber was apparently a pervert. She sighed. Rape was one of the few intensely terrifying things she’d yet to experience. She had wanted to keep it that way. But whoever had taken her evidently had other ideas.

At least it ruled out Lex. He may be a womanizer, but he preferred partners, not victims. Consent was the name of his game, and all his schemes were designed to get other people to see things his way and worship him as the hero, instead of Clark.

Ha. As if.

Honestly, she was surprised this hadn’t happened sooner. She was attractive, at least to hear Jimmy tell things. Sure, everyone usually tended to overlook her in favor of Lana, but apparently she had stalkers of her own. Part of her was flattered by that.

Of course, the other part, the rational side of her, was terrified. She was hardly a virgin, but nobody touched her without her permission. She sincerely hoped that they’d just removed her clothes to make sure she wasn’t hiding anything that might help her escape. As though a bra and panties made of red lace could possibly be of any use to her, other than the obvious modesty issue. Gawd, he was probably off smelling them right now.

That thought made her shiver.

She sniffed, testing the air. She’d gone through taste, sight, and feeling already, why not add a fourth sense to the mix? One of them was bound to help her.

Hay. She smelled hay. That meant she was in Smallville at least. But where exactly? Everyone had hay. Hay wasn’t just for horses. Hay was for wagon rides and mazes at the State
Fair. It was for making piles in which one could play and search for needles. It was a requirement for running a farm. She could be anywhere right now.

If only she could see….

Wait. Footsteps. He was here. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod….

She took a deep breath. If there was one thing she’d learned from being captured by the enemy so many times, it was to not show weakness. That never helped.

“Who’s there?” she demanded with significantly less courage than she would have liked. At least she managed to raise her voice above a squeak.

There was no answer.

She was just about to repeat her question when the blindfold was lifted. She blinked several times, waiting for her pupils to return to their normal dilation. When her vision cleared, her only reaction was to smile.

It was Clark.

“Oh thank God you’re here!” she breathed, using the hackneyed expression despite her abhorrence for all things cliché. She was just that happy to see him. “I was in my car on the way home from the Planet when some guy chloroformed me and….” She trailed off, looking around. “Wait, isn’t this your barn?”

She looked at him again, and he grinned lecherously. She noticed a small, molten circle of red that seemed to throb inside his crystal-blue eyes, and gasped. It wasn’t Clark.

It was Kal.

That was what he’d called himself three years ago, when he ran off to Metropolis while under the influence of Red Kryptonite, the only element in existence that could affect him like a drug. It was what they’d agreed to call the persona that the crimson-colored rock brought out in him. He was the one who brought her here.

She couldn’t quite bring herself to scowl at him. Sure, he might have kidnapped her, but he was high and it was her responsibility as his friend to look past that and try to figure out a way to get him off the Red K. Not to mention how sexy he looked in those… were those leather pants?! She swore she could feel her eyeballs expanding to Saturday morning cartoon proportions. She blinked, trying to ignore the fact that her blood was making ready to stampede as her heart beat faster in her chest.

It wasn’t just the pants that were leather. He also wore a sleeveless vest, which showed off his well-toned arms that belied unfathomable strength. It was open, displaying his pecs and abdomen as well. Whenever she beheld his Olympian torso, she wished she had a block of cheese. She’d like to see if his muscles were sharp enough to grate it. She wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

“Good evvvvening,” he greeted with a faux-Transylvanian accent, performing a small bow. Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Okay, what’s with the Dracula routine?”

He grinned. “I figured since our roles are reversed, it wouldn’t hurt to do a little role-playing either.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, right. You don’t remember when Lana got possessed by Isobel for the first time and a Sixteenth Century witch inhabited your body. Too bad. You looked hot in a corset.”

She arched an eyebrow. “If you like admiring my rack, why am I naked?”

“Saves time. Besides, I was already shirtless when the three of you chained me to that same post and you ran your fingernails down my chest. That hurt so good.” He rubbed his unmarred chest and winked. “Like I said, it’s a shame you can’t remember.”

“It torments me daily,” she deadpanned. “So can I assume from the wardrobe that you’ve got S&M play on the menu? Sorry, but I get tied up often enough as it is.”

Kal smirked, stalking toward her like a tiger on the prowl. His graceful movements drew attention to his incredible strength as she watched the impossibly powerful muscles play under his impregnable skin. His stare was penetrating; it was almost a leer. She could almost hear him purring. No, scratch that. He actually was purring.

“You like it though, don’t you?” he said, stepping closer. “I know you. You don’t keep doing something unless you get something out of it.” He reached a hand out to stroke her face, and while she would have bitten anyone else who tried that, Chloe allowed her cheek to be cradled by his warm palm. “Now, you can blame it on journalistic curiosity all you want, but I know why you really let yourself get caught.”

He lowered his hand, and her wits were returned to her. “And why is that?”

Kal leaned closer so that their chests were touching and she quivered as he whispered smoothly into her ear, simultaneously warming her cheek and sending a series of cool vibrations down her spine:

“So that I can rescue you.”

Once he resumed his original position, she was able to speak again. “Puh-leeze, Clark. That might be how Lana always managed to get your attention, but you know I’m not one for damseling.”

“That’s right,” he said, as though he’d been expecting that response. Considering how well they knew each other, he probably had. That didn’t mean he was right about this, though. She was not a masochist. He smiled regardless. “You like to struggle.”

He ran the back of his hand from the top of her neck to her the tip of her collarbone. Chloe wondered if he knew that his touch rendered her dumb; made her feel like a wool sweater that had just been removed from the dryer. Sparks played symphonies across her bare skin whenever he made contact, and she knew that he was conducting the orchestra. He had absolute control over her right now, and the cocky gleam in his eyes told her that he knew it, too.

“You don’t seem to be doing much struggling right now, though,” he observed, removing his hand and wrapping it around his chin. She couldn’t suppress a whimper. “I wonder why that is?”

“The fact that even if I weren’t chained to a post, I’d still be physically incapable of rejecting your advances?”

“You’d still try,” he countered, cupping one of her breasts and sliding his thumb over the nipple. Sensation jolted through her and she came alive as he started to slowly circle. She felt her other mouth water and let out a stifled scream at her body’s betrayal. He wasn’t supposed to have this much control over her. It wasn’t possible.

And yet she couldn’t even speak as he continued to massage her, causing her to writhe under his expert ministrations. All she could do was quiver and moan.

“There’s something about the way you’re not even putting up a fight,” he said, pinching her other nipple and eliciting a startled cry, “that makes me wonder if you really love your boyfriend.”

Uh-oh. Jimmy. What would he do when he heard about this? If he heard about this, she hastily reminded herself while she could still think coherently. Which he certainly wouldn’t, as long as he lived. She didn’t want to be held responsible for causing a cub photographer to die of a panic attack.

All thoughts of her boyfriend were banished when Kal twisted her tit again. It wasn’t even a fraction of his real strength, but it still hurt. She winced.

“Everything in nature has a balance, Chloe,” he said, gently rubbing one nipple while he plucked at the other without mercy. “Pleasure and pain are opposites that can only be truly appreciated when they’re brought together and experienced side by side.”

She mewled in response, then whimpered when he squeezed, harder than before.

Gathering all of her willpower, she managed to grunt out despite the distracting pain: “Where’d you… learn that from?” He twisted, and her back arched and she cried out. Panting heavily, she finished the thought: “Lex?”

He laughed out loud and decided to squeeze even harder for that comment. “That’s an interesting thought, Chloe. You just revealed a lot about yourself. You’d really rather have me Gay than with Lana?”

Not really, but…. “OW! You’re gonna pull it off!”

“Well we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He removed his fingers from her tortured nub, tracing them down her side and across her abdomen. Chloe tensed as he drew closer to where her body was betraying her, dribbling all over her legs. He stopped just below her navel. She sighed in relief.

Then gasped in surprise as something warm entered her and she felt like she’d just been stuck with a hot curling iron. Looking down, she saw that Clark—no, Kal; he wasn’t himself—had not stopped at all, and was probing her with his finger. At least he hadn’t chosen the other hole.

He started circling, and her eyes rolled back into her head as she shivered. She felt the knuckles of two other fingers being pressed against the sides of her slit, guiding the intruder in and out, in and out. Then, one by one, they joined their comrade, and she cried out as her spine imitated being drawn toward a magnet. A magnet that was screwing her with his hand.

“You’re so wet, Chlo,” he said, drawing his fingers back in a beckoning motion. White sparks assaulted her vision as her whole body shuddered in pleasure and something guttural was ripped from her throat. “And so responsive. Do bad boys turn you on?”

No. Bad boys turned Lois on. Chloe was apparently a xenophile, from the way her body was responding to his touch. Though she did admit that her heart beat faster around Clark when he was high. She hadn’t realized that until now.

He scratched the same spot again, pinching her nipple at the same time. Ecstasy became indistinguishable from agony as an overwhelming sensation lanced through her entire body. She whimpered when it terminated, then mewled happily when he started rubbing her tit again.

His hand turned sideways all of a sudden and his other two digits joined in the orgy. His pinky expanded her slit to where she thought it might tear, while his thumb sought out a small, sensitive piece of flesh the size of an olive. Finding it, he parted the curtain that concealed it and pressed down hard, simultaneously squeezing her nipple. It was too much, and she screamed.

He continued to rub her pearl, while the rest of his fingers wriggled and writhed inside of her, causing Chloe to do the same. She hissed sharply whenever he twisted her nipple, but found herself adjusting to the abuse. Her cries were suddenly stifled as he pounced forward and claimed her lips in the same manner that he’d claimed the rest of her: brazenly and ruthlessly unapologetic.

She felt like she was a rocket being primed for ignition. She started a countdown in her head.

Ten… nine… eight….

He prodded her with his tongue, and her lips could not deny him entrance, parting easily and letting him inside. He wasted no time exploring, reaching to the far corners of her mouth. She responded, rubbing the underside of his tongue with hers, and was immediately rewarded when he uttered a distinctly animal moan.

Seven… six… five….

He pressed down harder as he rubbed her inner flesh, causing her to whimper and whine into his mouth. He pinched her tit again, eliciting a muffled scream. She started to buck her hips against his hand, urging him deeper.

Four… three… two….

He broke the kiss and started nibbling on her neck. The nibbles became bites, and she had to do the same to her bottom lip to keep herself from screaming. Before his lips departed any one spot, he made a show of teasing her flesh with his talented tongue. She quivered as her whole body responded to his otherworldly touch.

One….

Her spirit reached for the sky….

Zero.

His lips returned to hers just as he thrust his hand deeper and pinched her nipple harder than she would have ever imagined. Sensations rumbled through her body and she achieved lift-off, screaming into his mouth and attempting to swallow his hand whole. Then she was flying, high above the barn, above Smallville, above Kansas, and finally above Earth. When she reached the end of her flight, she jettisoned the last of her fuel, exploding on Clark’s hand.

She stayed in blissful orbit for several moments before careening back down to earth, feeling the pleasure vanish and leave behind nothing but a black hole, like a star had exploded inside of her and all she was left with was the fallout. She felt him withdraw from her, and she trembled violently as she came down from her ultimate high. Tears came uninhibited, and she wept as everything abandoned her except the pain. Not her aching nipples or throbbing center, either. Those didn’t even occur to her. She felt only the terrible emptiness that comes with being alone.

Then she felt warm lips against hers and suddenly she was full again, full of life and energy and contentment. Warmth trickled back into her system, flowing down through her like water from a mountain spring. It pooled at her belly, where she felt soothing ripples radiate and crash as waves against her furthest shores. This was the feeling that romance novelists referred to as afterglow. Chloe called it feeling complete.

There was something else in that kiss; something that thundered like a stampeding river through her veins, drowning her in lusty anticipation. It was exciting. It was energizing. It was raw. She groaned and shuddered, feeling herself wet again. Her most valued spot began to throb and itch, screaming for satisfaction. She was ready.

“Oh God…” she whispered shakily after they separated, her vocal abilities slowly returning to her. “Oh God….”

“Yes?”

Chloe opened her eyes and glared at him. He smirked. She couldn’t help smiling back.

“Did you enjoy that?”

She nodded, because it was the truth. She had enjoyed that. No one had ever made her feel like that.

“I'll bet you Jimmy couldn’t do that,” he boasted, and she scowled. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you not like it when I talk about your little placebo boyfriend?”

“My what?”

His lips curled upward into what Chloe was beginning to refer to in her mind as “that damn smirk.” It made him look dark, dangerous, and unbelievably sexy. She quivered despite herself.

“It’s obvious you’re only interested in him because he reminds you of me,” he continued, tracing his fingertips down her stomach and scraping off the sweat. “Or at least, how I used to be, before all the bad stuff started happening and I turned into a total wimp.” He flashed her a grin. “Aren’t you glad that I’m finally over Lana?”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Say, why are you lusting after me instead of bringing her here again?”

“I thought you’d have figured it out by now. I only did that to mess things up between her and Lex. I don’t love her. I don’t think I ever did.”

Even though she’d been waiting to hear those words from him forever, there was something about the way he said them that made her shiver. “That’s not true, Clark.” She refused to address his alter-ego. “You’re still caught up with her.”

“And I gave her one last chance to just trust me. Instead she walked off with Lex. I’m done with Lana. I just never admitted it, because Clark Kent is Clark Can’t. I’m not him.”

Again, the words she’d wanted so much to hear him say, did not bring her the satisfaction she had imagined. It was the way he was saying them, the way he seemed to be telling her what she wanted to hear, that made her doubt it was the truth.

He wasn’t God. He was a liar. A magnificently sexy liar, but a liar nonetheless.

But she decided not to push it. She didn’t want to argue with him. She had to get him off the Red K, and to do that, she needed to play along until he decided to release her. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d made her touch Heaven, she told herself. Nothing at all.

Oh, who was she kidding? It had everything to do with that. Jimmy had only ever brought her as high as a Busch plane. Clark was able to rocket her to ecstasy. She wanted to ride again.

When he touched her, she knew the launch pad was clear. Time for the follow-up mission.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded without hesitation.

Grinning, he stepped around her and out of her sight. She tried to turn her head, but an owl she was not. She knew he wasn’t just going to leave her there, so she decided to be patient.

When he returned, her eyes bugged and she spluttered before finding the words to express her shock at the object he held in his hands.

“Oh my God, Clark! What the hell is THAT?!”

Threshold

Tue, 06 May 2008 07:01:42 GMT

Another cute little one-shot. I went back to the first season for this one. Things were so much simpler then. *sigh*

Anyway, enjoy.

Okay, picture this: you’re an alien. You came to earth carrying a bunch of meteors behind you, meteors that mutate the people around you and cause your blood to boil whenever you get too close. They’re all that’s left of your planet. You’re the last of your kind.

But whenever you’re not around the meteor rocks, you’re special. No, more than that: you’re powerful. You can outrun a bullet, stop a train just by standing in front of it and bracing yourself, and you can leap over half of Lowell County without even having to try. Or you can catch the bullet and race the train, and end up on the other side of town before any of your friends can even blink. Oh, and you can see through anything, like your best friend’s shirt or a brick wall that separates the gym from the girls’ locker room. You’d think it’d be enough to make you feel all-powerful, right? Someone who can do all that must have one hell of a superiority complex. Right?

Well, if you’ve met me, you’ll realize just how absurdly wrong that assumption is. It’s not just the guilt I feel about the meteor rocks, nor the way my parents have always taught me to use my powers responsibly. It’s not even the good old common sense that tells me I’ll be hunted down and captured by the government to run experiments on if I get too careless. No, it’s something scarier than that.

It’s not really an ‘it,’ though. It’s a she. My best friend, to be exact.

Yes, you read that right. I can leave hand prints in steel, I can break the sound barrier on foot, and I can see through pretty much anything, and yet I answer to a one hundred twenty pound girl who still sleeps with a stuffed animal. I must really be whipped, right?

Don’t take that the wrong way. Chloe and I aren’t like that. We’re just friends. We got all the romantic tension out of the way the first day we met and I showed her around Smallville, when she kissed me in my loft. She told me: “I know you’ve been thinking about that all day. Now that it’s out of the way, we can be friends.”

Fine by me. I like Chloe. She’s smarter than any other girl I know, and she’s not afraid to show it. She doesn’t try and blend in. She knows who she is, and she acts accordingly. If somebody has a problem with that, then they can just get the hell out of her way. She’s the most mature person I know, aside from my mom of course. God isn’t as mature as Martha Kent.

Maybe that’s why I feel so comfortable being just friends with her. My mom was a city girl too. She grew up in Metropolis as the daughter of one of the most prestigious lawyers in the city, before giving all of it up to marry my dad. She says she’s never regretted it. I think I learned the value of humility from her. She could have had so much power, but she gave it up for something infinitely more important: love.

So, yeah. Chloe reminds me of my mom. That’s why we’re just friends. We don’t really need to be anything more than that.

So then why am I staring at her?

Probably because I was zoning out just now with my inner monologue and she’s moved in front of my face, waving her hand like she’s trying to hypnotize me. I think it’d work better with a medallion. Heh. Now I’m getting a mental image of Chloe dressed like Elton John, with the star-shaped sunglasses and bad disco suit, along with the aforementioned medallion. I laugh. It’s a natural reaction when something’s funny. And trust me, Chloe dressed up as a British pop singer is hilarious. I laugh again.

“What’s so funny?” she demands, squirreling her brow. I like it when she does that. It’s cute.

Alright, I can’t say what I’m really thinking. She’ll just think it’s weird. Chloe already thinks I’m weird anyway, but I don’t need to give her any more ammunition. She already has enough to outfit a small army.

I'll just say the first thing that pops into my head. No, wait; that’s what I don’t want to say. But then how am I supposed to say anything if I can’t say what I’m thinking? So much for superior alien intelligence. I may be good at math, but the mysteries of the universe are still just that: mysteries. Philosophy was never my strong suit. What does the term “strong suit” even mean? Is it made of Kevlar?

Okay, this silence has gone on for way too long. Just say something!

“Uh….”

She rolls her eyes. Brilliant, Kent. You have such a way with words. Maybe that’s why you’re always typing the lunch menu.

I wonder why she’s glaring at me now. Is it because I’m staring at her chest? It’s hard not to when she’s leaning over me like this. And is it my fault she decided to wear a tank top? A low cut one at that? Lana’s pretty, but Chloe’s always had the better rack. Not that I usually stare at her of course, nor do I typically rank women based on looks. It’s only when she’s practically smothering me with them that I ever really notice. Hey, I may be an alien, but I’m not blind. Earth women are sexy.

Is it still considered bestiality when the only thing that separates you from humans is the ability to hurl a tractor across five counties? All the parts work the same. I’m just superhuman, I guess. Does that make them lower life forms? I’ve never thought so.

But Chloe’s just a friend. A very physically attractive friend, but I wasn’t raised to judge a person based on looks alone. I’m not about to go motor-boating. Even though it would probably be fun to bury my face in that spot between her soft, puffy breasts and just….

Alright, I have got to back away from her. Her chest is too distracting. It’s not her fault. They say if you’ve got it, flaunt it. Chloe’s the kind of person who’s comfortable with every aspect of herself. She doesn’t hold anything back. I just wish she wouldn’t let it all hang out in front of me sometimes. I can only take so much before I…

“Claaaark….” Now she’s snapping her fingers at me, like I’m some sort of dog to be heeled. Considering how she orders me around most of the time, I wonder if she actually sees me that way.

I know she doesn’t, of course. But she does have a bit of a tendency to walk all over me sometimes. And damn if I don’t let her.

It’s not like I have low self-esteem. I’m just… obsequious, I guess. Eager to serve. So is Chloe. She does so many favors for people, letting them unload all their problems on her, that I think she bosses me around to relieve stress. I’m happy to help with that. I can carry just about anything, after all.

“Hey! Clark!”

What’s she so mad about? Oh yeah, I haven’t answered her yet. Doesn’t she get that I’m the strong, silent type? I don’t talk much. Guess that’s impossible to understand for someone who never shuts up.

“Yeah?”

“What the heck is with you zoning out today?” She stands up, and… oh my God, they’re bouncing. At least they’re not in my face anymore. She looks down, then back up at me. She rolls her eyes. “Boys. I knew I should have worn a turtleneck.”

I take it that’s my cue to look at her face. “Sorry.” My cheeks feel warm all of a sudden. Guess all the blood’s rushing back to the right head.

“It’s fine.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I should have known when I leaned over that you’d be just like a kid in a doctor’s office.”

Okay, what’s she mean by that? Trying to keep up with Chloe in a conversation is a lot like chasing Carmen Sandiego. You never know where she’ll end up next.

“Huh?”

“You’re telling me you’ve never stared down the nurse’s scrubs top when she leaned over to get your temperature?”

Not really. I’d be too busy trying to explain why the thermometer exploded.

“Uh… must be some fever, huh?”

“Quickly, call the CIA! It’s immune to mercury!”

I shake my head. “I… don’t go to the doctor that much.”

“Right, the needle phobia.” She smirks, mocking me. Not fair. I’m not afraid of needles; I’m just worried what might happen when the doctor finds out they can’t penetrate my skin. On the plus side, I might actually get to see Area 51. I’d just rather not do it from a lab table.

“Clark, you’re walking towards the light again.”

I blink, then look back at her face. “Sorry.”

She sighs and crosses the room to her desk. I just remembered we’re still at the Torch office. That must be why she’s so aggravated with me. We’re supposed to have the weekly edition out by tonight.

“You’ve been acting seriously weird today,” she says, rummaging through the old yellow file cabinet. She closes it after a second. Guess she didn’t find what she was looking for. Now she’s searching on her desk. “You zone out every five seconds, I catch you staring at me, and you haven’t even mentioned Lana all afternoon.” She opens the drawer to her desk. “I’m starting to think you….” She gasps, standing up and closing the drawer in one motion.

What’s up with her? “Chloe, what’s wrong?”

She looks up at me, eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them. “Clark, we can’t.”

Huh? What’s she talking about? “Can’t what?”

“We… we just can’t.” She turns away and starts lifting up folders on her desk, peering under them. What’s she looking for?

“Chloe, what’s going on?” Guess I’d better help her look. I stand up and walk over to her desk.

When I get there, she whirls around, then gasps. What is she so afraid of?

“Clark, I… I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Unless she’s talking about… oh. Yeah, I can definitely see how that would be scary. But she’s got it all wrong!

“You think I’m…?”

She moves away from me, to the other side of the desk. I follow, like I’m tethered to her or something. She turns around, and I stop short of her hands as she raises them to the level of her midsection.

“Clark… we’ve been spending a lot of time together now that Lana’s having to be there for Whitney. It’s natural for people to get a little clingy when they’re in such close proximity. But whatever you think you’re feeling, it’s probably just a crush.”

I wasn’t aware I was feeling anything. I mean yeah, I looked down her shirt, but what normal guy wouldn’t? Granted, I’m not exactly normal, but she doesn’t know that. Besides, I know Pete acts the same way. Where did she get the idea that I’m attracted to her? Should I tell her how she reminds me of my mom?

Yeah, that’d probably go over about as well as the time I accused her of snatching Pete’s cologne and putting it on. How was I supposed to know they both bought the same unisex body spray? And now neither of them wear it anymore. Too bad. I like how it smells. It’s why I wear it now.

She recoils suddenly, the look on her face betraying her disgust. “Clark, are you smelling me?”

Oh, crap. That was not the best moment to lean closer to her hair. “Um… sorry?”

She rolls her eyes, groaning. “There’s only one way to deal with this,” she mutters before taking a deep breath.

Why is she moving closer to me? Why is she closing her eyes, tilting her head, and perking her lips? Why is she wrapping her arms around my neck? Why is she…. Oh. My. God.

She’s kissing me. Kissing me! On the lips! Is this where I’m supposed to push away and look around for any hand-shaking meteor mutants? I’m not so sure I wanna do that.

Hm… this isn’t bad. Well gouge my eyes out with a meteor rock and call me Oedipus: Freud was right!

Something’s poking my lips. Is that her tongue? Should I let her in? Oh, why not?

I’m glad she didn’t wear that turtleneck. Then I wouldn’t be able to feel how warm the skin is on her upper back as I run my hands along it. I wish one of my powers was the ability to create a time loop, because this is one moment I wouldn’t mind reliving over and over again.

She pulls away, and I stumble forward, still not wanting this to end. But apparently I only go around once.

As soon as my mouth gets over the loss of contact with hers, I ask her: “Chloe, what was that?”

Crap. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It makes me sound like I didn’t enjoy it. I did! I just… want to know the reason behind it. She of all people should understand curiosity.

“Just getting it out of the way.”

I squint, confused. “Getting what out of the way?”

She sighs, walking past me. I turn so I’m still facing her, and she stops again. “This… tension,” she says, gesturing her palms in my direction, then back at herself. “It’s just like the first time we met, Clark. You can’t get these… thoughts out of your head, so I figure if we just get it over with and kiss, you’ll see that it’s not such a big deal.”

So that’s what she’s doing, then? Giving me a fix? Somehow I don’t think it worked.

“Um… thank you.”

She knows I’m lying. I can see it in her face. But she ignores it, waving dismissively.

“Don’t mention it, Clark. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from countless Christmases with my dad and the fact that he always gets me a pair of pajamas, despite my continued efforts to remind him that I want a laptop the other three hundred sixty-four days of the year, it’s that the anticipation of something is so much better than the actual event. So many crushes could be nipped in the bud if people would just… get it over with. Cross the threshold already.”

I get what she’s saying, but… I don’t think it applies here. Maybe we didn’t get enough out of the way. Maybe we need to explore further. Maybe I should be telling her this instead of just saying it to myself.

“Chloe….”

“Like with you and Lana,” she says, ignoring me and going back to searching her desk. I’m starting to think she’s not actually looking for anything, and it’s just a nervous habit of hers. She has a lot of those. “You two are always dancing around each other, always coming so close to getting that first kiss, and you don’t realize that if you just kissed already, you could avoid all the drama. I’m just trying to keep the same thing from happening here.”

It’s not. Believe me, this is so not like it is with Lana. She’s right: I do go after her because I wonder what it would be like. Lana’s my fantasy. She’s perfect. Perfectly unattainable, that is. But Chloe… Chloe’s real. I can have Chloe. I just never noticed that until she showed me just now.

She keeps going through the piles on her desk, trying to avoid reality by engaging in a futile search for something that was never really there. I know, because I’ve been doing the same thing for so long. But I’m through looking for the nonexistent. I’ve found something so much better.

I walk up to her, taking her hands in mine. She jumps at first, but relaxes quickly. “Chloe…” I breathe, noticing for the first time just how beautiful her eyes are as they stare up at me expectantly, “I don’t think it’s just a crush.”

She swallows, and her next words are stuttered: “W-why not?”

“Because I don’t think it’s nothing special. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything more special in my entire life.”

“Not even with Lana?”

I shake my head, but I still maintain her gaze. “Like you said, we always get so close to having that first kiss, but we never actually get there. I think, for me at least, it’s because I’m afraid it won’t live up to this fantasy I’ve built in my head. But that’s not the case here. I know what it’s like to kiss you. And now that I do, I want it to happen again. With Lana… it’s just wishful thinking. But this is real. Is that enough for you?”

I can’t read her expression. What kind of tears are those? Is she sad, or overjoyed? She pulls her hands away, wiping her sleeve over her eyes and sniffling a bit.

“Are you being totally honest with me, Clark? You’re not just yanking my chain?”

Whoa. She must really be flustered if she’s using a cliché. I have to reassure her.

“How can I when you were never chained to begin with? You never let anything hold you back, Chloe. That’s what I love about you.”

She gasps, and her eyes grow wider. “Did you just….”

Do what? Tell her that I love her? “Uh, yeah.” I swallow. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

She doesn’t say anything.

I chuckle nervously, raising my arm over my head to scratch my back. “But, you know, who really knows what love is? And I wasn’t really saying I love you, just a… certain aspect of your personality and….”

I could babble all night, but thankfully she stops me by raising a finger to my lips. “Shh,” she orders, and I obey. It’s impossible not to. “I know when you’re lying, Clark. And I know when you’re trying to avoid the truth. You meant what you said. You don’t have to pretend otherwise.”

I can’t help but grin. “So….”

“So… what?”

“Do you wanna see how far this goes?”

“Clark….”

“Chloe.” I put both my hands on either side of her face, stroking her ears. “This isn’t a fantasy. We might not live happily ever after. Are you willing to try this out, even if it doesn’t last forever?”

She’s still not answering. She backs away, stepping around me and walking past. She’s headed for the door. Don’t go!

I want to stab myself with a meteor rock, curl up in the fetal position on the floor and die. How could I be so stupid? Was I too honest with her? Did she really want me to just pretend it never happened?

One millionth of a second. That’s how quickly I could be in front of her, stopping her from leaving. But I don’t move. I can’t.

Now she’s going to leave. She’s going to leave because I said too much, moved too fast. She’s going to….

Wait.

She’s not going out the door.

She’s closing it.

And locking it.

Now she’s turning around.

I gulp.

Oh, boy.

“Uh… Chloe?” She’s looking at me like… I can’t think of similes right now. Too busy sweating. And I don’t even sweat when it’s a hundred degrees out and I’m working in the fields.

“Nervous all of a sudden?” she asks coyly, sauntering towards me. I always wondered what sauntering looked like. Now I know.

When she reaches me, she doesn’t hesitate, wrapping her arms around my neck just like before.

“The answer is yes, Clark Kent: I do want to see where this goes. Is that enough for you?”

I smile. It’s really all I can do right now. “I’m just glad you didn’t leave.”

She chuckles. “Did you really think I’d be stupid enough to walk away from something I’ve been wanting since the day we met?”

I blink. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, come on!” She throws her head back, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you actually bought that whole ‘just friends’ routine, even back then. I only did it because you were obviously obsessed with Lana, and it was the only way to get close to you.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Um, because it’s the truth? I mean, you were looking at the girl through a telescope. What kept you from going up and talking to her?”

The golf ball-sized necklace around her neck that made me trip because it’s made out of the same stuff that causes my insides to get boiled by my own blood. But she doesn’t need to know that.

“I… uh… don’t know.”

She beams. “Sure you do. It’s like you said earlier: you were worried she wouldn’t live up to your expectations. So I just plowed through all the horse manure that you’d let yourself get surrounded by otherwise and showed you right away what it would be like, so you wouldn’t have to wonder.”

“Um, that works.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

I laugh. “How many romantic comedies have you watched lately?”

“Are you gonna do it or not?”

Yes. I lean down, letting her pull me towards her lips. When our faces meet, it’s everything I knew it would be. There’s nothing to be disappointed by, because I never had to imagine it. And it’s getting better by the second.

I suppose this is the part where I’m supposed to say I could die happy. But I don’t want that to happen. I don’t think she does either. I want this moment to last forever, even though I know it won’t. Hey, I can always dream.

But there’s no need.

It’s already come true.

Tutor

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:55:19 GMT

This is just a fun, fluffy little one-shot I did, set during season six. Clark teaches Chloe to read Kryptonian.

The stars were beautiful tonight. Not a single cloud had come out to blemish the sky, and the stars shone like distant beacons intended not to warn, but to reassure. They were like millions of tiny porch lights, each one sending a message that said: “I am home.”

But Clark was not looking at the stars.

Instead his eyes were focused on the girl—no, the woman—before him, watching the amber light of his loft give a homey, earthen quality to her soft blonde hair that had once been cut above her chin, but now trailed down closer to her twin breasts, which he was trying valiantly not to stare at lest he set her shirt on fire.

Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing. He could always just blow out the flames. But then he’d be running the risk of her clubbing him over the head with a certain green rock.

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he let his hearing wander and came across a radio two miles away playing Coldplay’s “Yellow.” He smiled. He couldn’t have picked it better himself.

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you
And everything that you do
Yeah, they were all yellow

While Chloe would have rolled her eyes at the clichéd imagery, he couldn’t fault the singer for thinking that the stars shone for the sake of the woman he loved. It was what he’d thought of Lana for the longest time, and what he thought of Chloe now.

Yes, he was attracted to his best friend, the keeper of his secret. It wasn’t his fault she was such a good kisser. Not that it was anyone’s fault, per se. In fact it seemed to be a blessing from the gods that the person who knew some of the most important details of his life was also able to make him blush and release a flock of butterflies into his stomach on a yearly basis. Unlike Lana, Chloe had always managed to surprise him. She’d figured out his secret on her own after only an initial revelation from Alicia Baker, whose memory he was finding less painful by the day, like his strength slowly returned the farther he got away from Kryptonite.

It suddenly occurred to Clark as he made that comparison that pretty blonde girls who knew his secret were an even bigger danger to him than the irradiated fragments of his home planet. But unlike Alicia, Chloe never tried to take advantage of Clark beyond enlisting his help cleaning up her dorm room in less than a second or giving her a ride to the Planet when she was running late. And he knew that she had absolute control over him, superpowers or no. Jor-El had nothing on Chloe when it came to getting Clark to do what she wanted.

The reason for that, he realized now, was that the feelings that had led him to take Chloe to the spring formal had never fully left. They’d just been overshadowed by his affections for Lana, which had all but disappeared by now, replaced by aching guilt. Lana had left a crater in his chest when he’d fallen in love with her, but that had been alright then because she had still occupied that space. When she left, he felt barren. Now the only person who could make him forget that emptiness and fill the void was the short blonde reporter who had always had his back, even before she knew he was from another planet.

Your skin, oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful

Chloe had indeed turned into something beautiful. Actually, she’d been beautiful this whole time, he just hadn’t allowed himself to notice. It wasn’t just her body either, although he admitted that it was taking every ounce of superhuman restraint he had to keep from throwing her down on that couch and mounting her right now, which he knew she would allow him to do in a heartbeat. She had always loved him, after all.

No, it was her sharp journalistic mind, her incredible drive, her startling compassion, and her ability to take whatever the world threw at her and come out of any ordeal stronger than she’d been before that made his love for her run deeper than it had with anyone else. She was the anti-Lana. Lana had gotten everything in her life through pity. Clark couldn’t recall her ever having a single thing that wasn’t given to her as a gift. Even the Talon, the one mark of independence in her long streak of handouts, had only remained open so long because she had been so good at smooth-talking Lex.

Why had he loved her? He asked himself that constantly. He never voiced it to anyone, but it was always there, always gnawing at him like a termite threatening to destroy his foundation unless he gave it a satisfactory answer. He had never found one.

And you know,
For you I'd bleed myself dry
For you I'd bleed myself dry

It was true. He would bleed himself dry for Chloe, even if his blood hadn’t had the ability to raise people from the dead. Too bad it only worked for liver disease and not the heart, or else Jonathan Kent might still be with them. Having a Kryptonian presence in him had been what destroyed his father’s heart in the first place.

The death of his father had sent Clark to a place so dark it made the Phantom Zone look like Bermuda. It had taken a team effort from Chloe, Lois and his mother to pull him out of it. Lana hadn’t helped, not that it was her fault. He was the one who couldn’t tell her his secret. She reminded him that he was living a lie, adding to his already crushing guilt.

He’d eventually come out of it enough to where he could now go half a day without being reminded that his father died protecting his secret. But before he had, he’d resolved that he would be the only one to make sacrifices from now on.

Which had worked out just great. Lana was dating Lex, and Lionel and his mother were getting closer by the day. What was it about Luthors being attracted to the women he loved? Was it their way of getting back at him for all the trouble he’d caused? With Lex maybe, but Lionel had always envied Jonathan. Clark had to remind himself that what he wanted didn’t matter in situations like that. It was between the people involved.

Clark opened his eyes and looked at Chloe. She had always been more than enough to lift his spirits in the past, and now she was his last lifeline before he slid off into total depression. He wasn’t willing to let her go too.

He suddenly realized that she was waving at him. The song was over anyway, so he adjusted his hearing back to normal.

“…ark, hello? Do you and your memories want to be alone?”

Absolutely not. “Sorry,” he said, blushing. “I was somewhere else.”

She rolled her eyes. “Lana?”

“Actually, no. I was just thinking about how you’ve always been here to light up my day.”

A smile pulled at the edges of her lips. “Yes, well, this little light of yours is gonna go on back to the Planet if you keep letting all your senses wander. Remember, I gave up an evening with Jimmy for this.”

Right. Jimmy. In all his musings Clark had forgotten about the eager little photographer who had completely blindsided him just as he’d been ready to confess his desires to Chloe. He’d stepped back out of respect for Chloe’s right to choose who she dated, and he never shared with her the fact that she, not Lana, was the one person he’d wanted to see most after he escaped from the Phantom Zone. An Oscar-worthy kiss after years of unacknowledged sexual tension tends to make a person high on one’s list of priorities. But then Jimmy had to go and ruin it.

Still, Chloe had chosen to spend the evening with him over going out on another night where Jimmy all but kissed the ground she walked on, so that had to mean something, right?

“Right,” he said after several uncomfortable moments. “So where were we?”

She pointed to the page in front of her. Oh yeah. He’d been teaching her to read the Kryptonian symbols. He’d been a bit confused when she just came to the farm in the middle of the night and asked for immediate lessons, but he’d agreed. And so here they were.

Nodding to show that he remembered now, he pointed to the symbol that had been branded on Lana’s back two years ago. “That means Water. This one means Fire, and this one,” he pointed to the symbol that looked like the number eight inside an inverted pentagon, “means Air. It’s the symbol Jor-El burned into my chest three years ago when he told me to leave Smallville. He said it was the mark of my ancestors.”

“Ouch.”

He smiled painfully. “It hurt worse than being exposed to Kryptonite. And believe me, having your blood boil is not a pleasant experience.”

“I'll remember that,” she said. “So these are the three elements that made up your Fortress of Solitude, right?” He nodded. “Why not Earth?”

Clark raised an eyebrow.

“Right. You’re an alien,” she said as though she had actually forgotten that. “It’s just you act so human I sometimes fall back into thinking that you are.”

“Well I was raised by humans, so it’s not really an act,” said Clark. “Still, how do you manage to forget that when I’m teaching you how to read a language that’s not even from this planet?”

She laughed. He liked hearing her laugh. It kept the sad thoughts at bay. “I guess the last hour of studying has turned my brain into Jello like it always used to in high school. Even those of us who research stuff for a living need a break once in a while.”

“You’re doing great,” he encouraged.

Chloe smiled. Her smile was another thing he loved about her. “How did you learn all this?”

“I put the key in the cave wall and it downloaded me with the knowledge of my planet’s language.” He pointed to a newspaper clipping Chloe had saved from the Wall of Weird. Everything she owned that had Kryptonian symbols on it had been transported to Clark’s loft for this evening’s study session. The headline read: Aliens or Arsonists? “It was right before I burned that symbol into my barn.”

“At least it answers the headline,” she said. “Still, why couldn’t we have just done that?”

“Because the last person who tried it was Dr. Walden, and he ended up in a catatonic state.”

“Information overload?”

He nodded. “Apparently my brain was the only one that could handle it. Humans still have to learn it the old-fashioned way.”

“Stupid higher alien brain power,” Chloe grumbled. Clark laughed. “So what ended up happening to him?”

“He came to the day of Lex’s rehearsal dinner. Apparently he’d developed the ability to shoot energy from his hand, and he was able to use the key to amplify it. He almost killed me before I got him with heat vision and he accidentally blew up a fuel tank. I had to pry the key out of his hand.”

She grimaced; even though both she and Clark had been exposed to more death than anyone still sane ought to be, hearing about prying things from dead people’s hands was still disgusting to her. At least that meant she hadn’t gone crazy. Yet.

“Okay, so Chloe can’t learn kung fu just yet,” she said in her own bewilderingly cryptic way.

Clark tilted his head.

She sighed. “The Matrix, Clark.”

“Oh.” He nodded, though he was still confused. He was sure Chloe had some remark about the simplicity of farmboys primed and ready to fire, so he decided to speak before she had the chance to thoroughly baffle him. “So do you want to get back to studying or do you need a few more minutes?”

“Loose lips are the bane of ocean-liners everywhere,” she replied. So much for not letting her confuse him. “If we talk too long we’ll lose direction and this’ll take forever. Let’s keep studying.”

So they went back to work. He showed her the symbol for Kal-El, his birth name. The symbol was rigid; straight lines everywhere, with very few curves. He also showed her how to sign her own name in Kryptonian. It looked more elegant, but suggested strength, just like her. She wrote it several times on a sheet of paper before something occurred to her.

“You know, you never told me what the language was called.” She looked away for a moment, stroking her chin. “Kryptonese?”

He laughed out loud. “Do you have any idea how racist you sound right now?”

“Technically it’s speciest, and no, I didn’t. Have I offended your delicate alien sensibilities?”

Clark chuckled at the thought of any part of him being described as ‘delicate.’ “Yes,” he said with feigned umbrage. “Yes you have. Especially since I prefer ‘Intergalactic Traveler’ instead of ‘alien.’”

She placed a hand to her chest. “Well I’m sorry,” she said before they both burst out laughing again. It had been a while since they’d laughed together. “Seriously, what’s it called?”

“Well, Raya told me that there were five ‘father voices’ before the language was unified.” He could say Raya’s name without pausing or going completely catatonic for a few minutes. It was progress.

“What were they?”

“Well, the main one was called Kandorian, but there was also Vath, Twenx, Urrikan, and Lurvanish.”

Chloe blinked. “That last one sounds kinda Russian.”

“Because all aliens are Communists,” Clark joked, though she could tell that he was a little hurt by the implication.

“You have to admit you would have turned out totally different if you’d been raised there instead of here. The USSR was still around when the meteors hit.”

“Clark Kent: Red Son,” he tried out before shaking his head. “I can’t see it.”

“That’s because ‘Clark Kent’ doesn’t really sound Russian. Maybe if you tried something else.”

“We’re getting sidetracked here.”

“You always did have a fear of tangents.”

“Whatever. Do you wanna be here all night?”

“Like I'll learn to read Kryptonian—that’s what we’re calling it, by the way—in one night anyway. And you know I’ve spent enough nights at this farm to qualify as a part-time resident. Good thing you and your mom don’t believe in charging rent.”

“We’ve thought about it. Don’t you wanna get back to Jimmy, though?”

She sighed and looked down. “About Jimmy.”

His eyes widened. She hadn’t broken up with Jimmy, had she? If so, that sucked for the photographer, but it would be a godsend for him. And he really needed some good news right now. He motioned for her to continue.

“I didn’t just skip a date with him to come here and study. I kinda walked out on dinner.”

Fighting the urge to speed over to wherever Jimmy was wallowing in sorrow and do a victory dance before making out with Chloe right in front of him, Clark asked: “What happened?”

She stood and walked over to the couch, taking a seat there. Clark followed. “I mentioned that I was coming over to your place after our date. I guess he wanted to spend some time alone with me tonight, so when I told him I already had plans, he sorta lost it.”

“In the middle of the restaurant?”

“Well it’s not like I had to throw champagne in his face. But I could tell he was upset. We weren’t even at a fancy restaurant, and we were going Dutch on the tab. I figured it was no big deal if we both went to spend the rest of the night with other people.”

“Except Jimmy doesn’t really have other people.”

“Right. So when I mentioned your name, he got kinda jealous.”

“Jimmy? Jealous?”

“You have to admit, he’s made connections between us where there were none before.”

Clark frowned. Jimmy hadn’t known how right he was. “So you two broke up?”

“Not officially, but I do remember him saying something about spending all my romantic evenings with you from now on.” She sighed. “I think you’d better come with me to talk to him tomorrow. Smooth things out.”

“I’m not so sure I want to do that.”

“Oh come on, Clark!” She slapped his shoulder, and he moved so she wouldn’t hurt herself. “How many times have I had your back? Besides, if you didn’t show up, you’d be giving him the impression that he was right about us.”

He suddenly had a deep desire to kiss her. She blinked, and he could hear her heart flutter.

“Because he wasn’t, right?”

No, he was. Jimmy had never been more right about anything.

“Clark?”

He didn’t answer. He just leaned in.

And kissed her.

At first she tried to pull away, but one of the advantages of super strength is the ability to hold on to things. Besides, she’d wanted this for longer than he had. And hadn’t she just broken up with Jimmy? Why would she want to go back to her placebo boyfriend when the real object of her desires was right here, kissing her?

She gave in, opening her lips and extending her tongue in invitation. He answered without hesitation, then leaned back and let his hands roam around her shirt. If he wanted—which he so did—he could remove the flimsy garment like it was saran wrap covering an incredibly tasty meal. But he didn’t do things like that without permission. And he knew that no matter how badly Chloe had wanted him for the last six years, she wasn’t the kind of girl to screw first, ask questions later. Besides, he could cripple or even kill her if he wasn’t careful. Or burn her. That tended to be a mood killer.

Chloe’s sudden moan of protest reminded him that humans needed to breathe more often than he did. He broke the kiss, but didn’t take his arms off her.

“Clark, let go.”

He shook his head. “I like you like this.”

“Let me go right now, or I swear the second you release me later I'll get the meteor rock out of your tool box and pound you with it.”

Chloe always had a bluntness about her that Lana lacked. He liked that. He removed his arms from around her, but he still held her hand so she wouldn’t leave. Not that she looked like she wanted to. She slid off of him, back onto the couch.

“Clark, what just happened?”

He took a deep breath. “Chloe, do you know who I wanted to see the second I got out of the Phantom Zone?”

“Let me guess: Lana?”

He smacked his forehead with enough force that, had he not also been invulnerable, he would have shattered his skull. “No, not Lana. It was the last person to kiss me.”

She blinked. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes! You’re a great kisser, not to mention you’ve always loved me.”

“But the feeling hasn’t always been mutual.”

He sighed. “And I’m sorry about that,” he said. “But Lana’s gone and you’re the only one who wouldn’t be taking her place.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’ve always had a spot in my heart.”

Chloe looked ready to cry in ecstasy. Before she opened the floodgates, though, she had to ask: “But why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Jimmy,” he answered, and her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“Oh.”

“Pete told me you dated him during your first summer in Metropolis, after the twisters.”

She sniffed. The tears streaming down her face were no longer happy ones. “Did he also tell you we slept together?”

No. “Why should that matter, Chloe? You’ve always had your heart set after me. And after spending time with Jimmy I think the only reason you like him is because he reminded you of me.”

“How so?”

“Well, I'll admit he’s a lot more upbeat than I am, but he’s a lot like I was freshman year, before all the bad stuff started happening and I started having feelings for Lana again. Sorry, by the way.”

“It’s okay.”

“I just don’t think you should have to settle for someone who’s not right for you.”

“And you are? At least Jimmy’s always there for me. You don’t exactly have the best track record with keeping appointments. Which is beyond ridiculous for someone with a photographic memory.”

“I can’t always control what comes up. Besides, I always show up when I’m needed most, right?”

She ran a sleeve across her face and nodded. “Yeah.”

“And now that I’m promising to make you a priority, don’t you want to see where this goes?”

“That depends. Will I always come first?”

He shook his head. “I can’t promise that. Things happen that I can’t ignore, things like escaped phantoms or rogue meteor freaks, and I can’t always be there for you. But I can promise that when the choice is mine, I'll always choose you.” He looked down. “But if that’s not enough I can understand.”

“You wouldn’t be Clark Kent if you didn’t choose saving the world over having a romantic dinner,” she said, and his head dipped further. “That’s exactly what I love about you. The way you always take responsibility, even for things that aren’t really your fault.”

He looked up at her. “Do you really mean that?”

“That I love you? You know I always say what I mean. If it wasn’t the truth, I wouldn’t say it. Not when you’re baring your soul to me.”

Clark smiled. That was exactly what he needed to hear. “So you really wanna give this a shot?”

“Well, I'll have to talk to Jimmy first—alone, because he might actually end up breaking his hand when he punches you—but yeah. It’s what I’ve always wanted from you, so now that you’re offering, who am I to refuse?”

He kissed her again, and this time she didn’t resist.

“Just promise me one thing, Clark,” she said after they separated. “Promise me you won’t just leave me for Lana like you did at the Spring Formal.”

“If I do have to make a quick exit,” he said as he stroked her face. “I'll always make sure to come right back to you.”

This time she initiated the kiss.

As they rolled around on the couch, the papers lying forgotten on the floor, Clark’s thoughts kept returning to the stars. He’d stared at them so many times from this loft. Now it was as if they were looking down at him.

Time to give them the best show of their billion-year-old lives.

Sapphic, Final Act

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:48:55 GMT

And the final act. Resolution... and hints of things to come.

“Well I’m just glad you’re okay,” said Martha, putting a hand on Clark’s cheek. He had just finished telling her what happened, and while she had cringed at certain details—which was nothing compared to what her reaction would have been had he told her about 33.1—she was supportive of her son as always. “It must have been hard, not knowing what had gotten into them at first.”

“It was,” he admitted. “I guess I just got so used to the idea of Chloe and Lana competing over me that I never thought they’d end up together. But do you know what the funny thing was?”

“What?”

“I’d still rather the two of them be together than Lana and Lex. If Chloe and I hadn’t gotten to The Talon in time….” He let it hang there.

“Hey.” She reached over and stroked his shoulder. “The important thing is that you did get there in time. You know what comes from worrying what might have been.”

“I should be glad I can’t get ulcers,” said Clark, grinning. Martha smiled back. “I don’t know how you and dad managed to keep from worrying about me all those years.”

“It was tough, but we always had faith in you, Clark. And I still do.”

He smiled.

There was a knock at the back door, and they both turned to look.

“I come in peace,” said Chloe, entering with her hands up.

“Hello, Chloe,” Martha greeted. “It’s good to see everything’s back to normal again.”

“Yeah, unfortunately that includes Lex and Lana.” She frowned. “I told her to stay at The Talon, but she figures the best thing to do now is keep an eye on Lex. I can’t say I agree with her.”

“Me neither. I hope she’ll be all right.”

Chloe shrugged. “Lana’s a fighter. She’ll get through this one way or another. I just wish she didn’t insist on staying in the Lion’s den.”

“Sometimes we have to put ourselves at risk when we feel it’s the right thing to do,” Martha replied, looking at Clark. “Even when no one else agrees that it is.”

He smiled.

“Do you mind if I talk to Clark alone for a few minutes, Mrs. Kent?” asked Chloe, and Martha nodded.

“I need to make some phone calls anyway. After everything Lois went through today I decided to give her the night off.”

“That and the fact that she tried to go Xena to your Gabrielle made things unbelievably awkward between the two of you and you can’t stand to see her till tomorrow?”

Martha blinked, while Clark hid his face. Chloe rolled her eyes. “Okay, strike that comment from the record. I’ve been spending way too much time with Lois.”

“I'll go upstairs,” Martha said after a moment. “You two have fun.” With that, she left.

“So where’d you go after Lana got turned back to normal?” Chloe asked once they were alone.

“I went with Oliver to shut down that 33.1 facility I told you about this morning,” he said. “But when we got there, it exploded.”

Chloe gasped. “Was there anyone inside?”

“I’m not sure. When Oliver and I went there earlier tonight, he was running tests on Artemis.”

“My God, is she alright?”

“Again, I don’t know. But she seemed a lot tougher than I would have thought. They started drilling into her stomach and she didn’t even flinch.”

Chloe, on the other hand, did. “Yeesh, Clark. You can spare me the gory details.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She crossed the kitchen and sat at the table. Clark followed. “So what do you think happened to her?”

“I don’t think Lex would be interested in killing someone who was that valuable to him. She wasn’t in that building.”

“Do you think he’s keeping her somewhere?”

“We have no real way of knowing, but I don’t think so. The spell was broken; he has no reason to hold her anymore.”

“Do you think that’s why he blew everything up?”

He shook his head. “That’s not Lex’s style. From what Oliver told me, the program was simple catch, tag, and release. Lex is trying to keep tabs on people who’ve been infected with Kryptonite. He probably just destroyed the building to get rid of evidence.”

“Do you really believe that, or is your faith in humanity also super-strong?”

Clark looked away. “A year ago I would have said yes. I used to think Lex was just misguided. But now I’m not so sure. I think he really does have that darkness in him. I think we were destined to be enemies.”

“No you weren’t, Clark. Things happened, things you couldn’t control. You can’t blame yourself for the path he’s chosen.”

“Believe me, I don’t. But those things happened because of my destiny, the destiny Jor-El chose for me.” He looked at her. “Do you remember the legend on the cave walls? The one about Numan and Segeeth?”

“The guys who started out as friends and became mortal enemies?”

He nodded. “Doesn’t that sound a lot like me and Lex?”

“Clark….” She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Lex wouldn’t be who he is today if it wasn’t for me. If the meteors hadn’t come, none of this would have happened. 33.1 wouldn’t exist, Lana wouldn’t be about to marry him, and all the bad stuff that’s happened over the last five years, wouldn’t have.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Post hoc, ergo propter hoc,” she muttered.

“What?”

“It’s Latin. It means ‘after this, therefore because of this.’ It’s a logical fallacy, Clark.”

“A what?”

“Did you learn anything in your freshman Philosophy class? I know you have a photographic memory, so either that means you weren’t paying attention or you didn’t even go.”

“I was kinda busy back then.”

“Whatever. Anyway, it’s an error in reasoning. In this case, your error is in thinking that you’re the cause of all this.”

“Aren’t I?”

She balled her hands into fists. “I still have that Kryptonite in my purse, Clark. Don't make me beat you with it.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. As I was saying, you’re wrong to think that you caused all this. You aren’t the reason Lex turned out the way he has. Blame Lionel for that. And just because you came along with the meteors, doesn’t mean that you’re responsible for the effects.”

“I still feel guilty.”

“Don’t.” She put hand on his. “You weren’t the reason your planet blew up. Zod was.”

“That’s another thing. Zod wouldn’t have been released if I had listened to Jor-El for once in my life.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have.” His voice had grown stronger, harder. He seemed sure of himself. “I think on some level I did. But I wasn’t willing to do what was necessary.”

“There’s always another way, Clark.” Chloe said, matching the firmness of his voice with her own iron resolve. “You proved that when you trapped Zod in your father’s crystal. You saved the day without having to kill anybody. You kept your integrity, just like you always have.”

“Have I? I’ve lied, cheated, and stolen to protect my secret. I’ve disobeyed my parents, I’ve hurt Lana, and so many people have died because of me. I’m nowhere near perfect.”

“No one’s asking you to be. The truth is, Clark, that at the end of the day, you’re the one who always comes through. Whenever it’s in your power to save somebody, no matter how you feel about them, you always will. That’s just who you are.”

He looked down. “I’m just trying to make up for what I’ve done.”

“No, you’re not. It’s in your nature to want to help people, and you’ve been blessed with the power to do that. But even you can’t carry the burden for other peoples’ mistakes, Clark.”

“Why not? Why can’t I take the blame if it means that they don’t have to? I’m so much stronger than everyone else, why shouldn’t I carry more?”

“Because you already take on so much.” He sighed, and she put a hand on his shoulder. “Clark, do you remember the story of how Jesus was crucified?”

“Chloe….”

“I know, you’re not really a religious person, but I was raised Catholic and this is the best way I can think of to get my point across. Just hear me out.”

He looked up at her. “Alright.”

“Whenever I used to go to Easter service as a child, the Priest always told us that Christ died on the cross for our sins. It wasn’t the asphyxiation that killed him either, or the loss of blood. It was the fact that all the guilt of all the sins of every person who ever existed and will exist all hit him at once. The emotional stress was too much for his body to handle. He literally died of a broken heart.”

Clark blinked. Okay, he’d never heard the story from that particular angle before. “And you think I’m headed down the same path?”

She nodded. “The world has enough martyrs, Clark. What it needs right now is a hero. Someone to inspire us. The only thing holding you back from achieving that is the fact that you can’t let go of your guilt.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. Maybe someday I will be, but not right now.”

“Well, take your time. Nobody’s asking you to embrace your destiny right this second. Just promise me you’ll stop blaming yourself for what happened. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not. But that shouldn’t stop me from taking responsibility for the things that only I can handle.”

“And I agree with you, but you have to stop saying things like what started us down this whole line of discussion. You’re probably right that none of that stuff would have happened if the meteor shower never hit. But none of the good stuff would have happened either. Sure, it might seem like you’re cleaning up your own mess a lot of the time, but I honestly don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t a part of my life.”

He looked up at her, and she put her hand on top of his. “You’re a good influence on so many people, Clark. You convinced Bart Allen to stop stealing and you gave Victor Stone a second chance at life. Now they’re helping people and it’s because of you. Maybe instead of blaming yourself for all the bad stuff that’s happened, you should start taking credit for all the good you’ve done.”

“I know that. And you’re right. But I’m not the person you make me out to be. I do good, yes, but it’s only to make up for my mistakes.”

Chloe shook her head. “Lex is the one who’s trying to atone for who he is. Lionel even more so. But you’re just a genuinely good person. You’re not afraid to fight for what you believe in.”

“I’m not a hero, Chloe.”

“You’re right,” she said, grinning. “You’re more than that. You’re a superhero.”

He couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from curling upwards in a smile. “Thanks, Chloe. It means a lot that you think that highly of me.”

“Hey, I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend. I’m saying it because it’s the truth. And one day everyone will realize that, if you’ll let them.”

“I told you I’m not ready for that yet.”

“When will you be? You can’t wait around forever, Clark. The longer you try and hide who you really are, the closer this world gets to ending up like Krypton.”

He sighed. “Can we please talk about something other than my destiny?”

Chloe laughed. “You’re right, I should be thanking you for saving me from myself earlier. Muchas gracias, by the way.”

“Have you and Bart been talking?”

“We’re chat room buddies. It’s physically impossible for me to keep up with him, but I’m a decent typist.”

“Don't sell yourself short. Even though I have superspeed, you still know more about computers than I do. It’s one of the reasons I keep you around.”

“Are you sure there aren’t other reasons?”

“What do you mean?”

She smirked. “If you really believed that a kiss from a man would break the spell, why didn’t you call Jimmy? Why’d you go after me yourself?”

“Actually I did call him. Then I realized it was too dangerous and I didn’t want to get him involved.”

“Are you sure?”

He scrunched his brow. “Chloe, what are you saying?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she looked away.

Clark reached out and gently guided her face back in his direction. “Chloe….”

He had always had quick reflexes. His synapses fired about a million times quicker than those of an ordinary human, which allowed him to move and react in superspeed without getting overwhelmed. It was just short of impossible to catch him off guard. But then Chloe had always managed to surprise him.

And so it came as a complete shock when she suddenly dove forward and kissed him. He could feel her lips tugging on his insistently, and after a moment he began to respond. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, which he was sure would have hurt if he wasn’t invulnerable. She pulled him in closer, and he allowed himself to be moved.

As tempting as it was to just give in to his feelings, he couldn’t stop the nagging voice in the back of his head that told him this was wrong. He ordered it to shut up, to let him enjoy this moment, but it wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t ignore the voice, because it was his own. He was telling himself to stop.

So then why wasn’t he? He could push her away with a flick of his wrist, and here he was opening his mouth to allow her tongue inside. He possessed an iron will, but Chloe was causing it to tarnish in the deluge of feelings she’d just unleashed in him. It was just like the kiss she’d given him in the basement of the Daily Planet. The sudden resurgence of feelings, the desire to hold her, touch her, kiss her, and just plain be with her had been one of the primary things that motivated him to escape from the Phantom Zone. But then Jimmy had to come along and….

His eyes snapped open. Jimmy! He’d forgotten about him completely. He pushed her off of him, standing to his feet. “Chloe I’m so sorry!” he blurted out.

She blinked, as if trying to remember where she was. After a moment, she recovered. “Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking.” She rubbed the side of her head. “I… I think I’d better go.” She stood and walked towards the door. She was just about to open it when Clark called out after her:

“Chloe, wait!”

Chloe heard. Chloe stopped.

But Chloe did not turn around. She didn’t even speak.

She felt a warm pressure on her shoulder and looked down to see Clark’s hand there. She allowed herself to be spun around so that she faced him, and looked up into his eyes.

“Chloe, what was that?”

“A mistake,” she excused. “A moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.” She turned to leave.

“I’d like it to.”

She faced him again. “What?”

“I’m not going to lose you twice.”

“Clark, what are you talking about?”

“Do you remember when I got back from the Phantom Zone? Do you remember what you told me?”

She nodded. “I said I wasn’t expecting us to hook up.”

“I knew you were lying. I could hear your heart speed up when you told me that. I almost called you on it before Jimmy showed up and I realized the reason you pulled the friend card. I’m not gonna let that happen this time.”

“Clark, I’ve already cheated on Jimmy once. I’m not going to do it when I’m not under a Krypto-mutant’s influence.”

“I understand that. And that’s one of the things I admire about you. But you can’t keep kissing me and not expect me to feel something in return. You can’t play with my heart like that.”

She scowled at him. “I can’t do that? What do you call leaving me at the Spring Formal so you could be with Lana? You told me you were taking me to that dance because you wanted to, and then you ran off and chose her instead!”

“What was I supposed to do, let her get sucked up by a tornado?!” he yelled, and Chloe realized that she’d said too much. “And in case you don’t remember, you were the one who insisted we go back to the way things were! I may have been naïve enough to believe that was what you really wanted then, but I’m not going to let that happen this time! I feel something for you, Chloe. Something more than friendship. I’m willing to pursue it, as long as you are too. But if you don’t want to find out where it leads or how deep it goes, for the love of God, quit kissing me!”

She stood there for several moments, trembling as she fought to keep her composure. She let the unshed tears sting her eyes as she chuckled bitterly and replied: “Don’t worry, Clark. It won’t happen again.” She opened the door, and left.

Then the dam burst, and her tears fell.

Lex stood at the window of his office at LuthorCorp Plaza, looking out over the glowing spires that shimmered like jewels in the night. He didn’t want to go back to the mansion, not now. Not because of Lana; not because he wasn’t ready to face her. He was. He just needed a quiet place to think.

No matter how much Smallville had grown on him in the last five years, Metropolis had always been his home. It was where he was reminded of man’s power over nature, evident in the brilliant skyscrapers that dimmed the light of the stars. Other people sought to escape from the hustle and bustle of the big city, but Lex thrived on it. It made him proud to be human. It showed him that anything was possible, as long as enough minds were set to the task.

Any philosopher who claimed that man was insignificant, he thought, had never seen Metropolis. His father had always called it a modern day Athens, and while as a child Lex had rolled his eyes at the comparison, now he had to agree. Metropolis was the home of the Daily Planet and LuthorCorp, just as Athens had been the center of thought and scientific progress in the ancient world. It was where great men gathered to share their accomplishments.

Unlike his father, though, Lex recognized that for all its splendor, Metropolis was hardly a utopia. Not as decadent as Gotham to be sure, but any city that called its red light district Suicide Slums was far from perfect. Still, it was by far his favorite city, if only for the fantastic views. Nothing really compared to the sight before him. Nothing on Earth.

His musings were interrupted when the double doors hissed open behind him, and he turned to greet his visitor.

“Thanks for coming, Dad.”

“Hello, Son.” Lionel Luthor gave a slight bow before striding easily across the office to sit in the chair that had once been his. Lex did not object. At this point he saw it as less of a concession, and more like humoring an old man. “What did you need?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

Lionel steepled his fingers. “For what, I might ask?”

He smiled. Even though he’d taught him every trick in the book, his father still tried to feign ignorance around him. At one time he would have called it a habit; now he thought of it as an idiosyncrasy, because Lionel probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. It was that ingrained.

“The Metropolis Fire Department received a call about an explosion in the warehouse district about an hour ago,” he said, swirling his Scotch. “When they got there all they found was smoldering ruins, and not the 33.1 facility that went offline around the same time. I asked the Lead Scientist in charge of the installation what happened, and he told me they received orders to clear out not too long after I left. I don’t remember sending any such orders.”

“And you think I sent them?” He leaned back casually in the chair. His face was completely calm.

“I know you did. You’re the only other person with sufficient authority to shut down a facility of that importance. Considering the fact that security was compromised while I was present at the facility earlier tonight, by the Green Arrow no less, I have to say I'm grateful you thought to cover my tracks. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight tonight.”

A smirk crossed Lionel’s features. “Interesting choice of words.”

Lex chuckled and looked down at his Scotch. “So you saw the tape, then?”

His father nodded. “I must say, this Artemis is an intriguing character. Very tough. They ran the full battery of tests on her and she didn’t even flinch.”

“We have the anesthetic to thank for that.”

“Yes, but she’s a brave one. Experienced. Not one of those simpering teenagers that squirm under the knife. She’s able to play games on your level. Tell me: were you ever going to let her go?”

Lex looked up. “Of course. Now that the spell is broken, I obviously have no further use for her. The goal of the program was simply to keep tabs on all the mutants that hadn’t yet gone insane. Only the violent ones are kept under lockdown.”

“I know that. But I also know your capacity for vendetta. I thought she made an interesting point about Clark.”

The younger Luthor raised his eyebrows. “You think I’m attracted to a farmboy?”

“He’s more than that and you know it. Why else would you devote an entire room of your mansion to studying him? Why try and form a friendship with him?”

“He saved my life.”

“Oh, of course. But that wasn’t the real reason. You’ve always had an insatiable curiosity, Lex. Even as a child, you were always asking how things worked. At first I wrote it off as simple childhood wonder, but as you grew older I began to realize that you have a… propensity towards obsession.”

“So now I’m obsessed with him?”

“You have been ever since the day you ran off a bridge and he dove in to save you. You never let anything go, not really.”

“Neither do you.”

Lionel chuckled. “It’s the reason you started 33.1 to begin with. You want to know what the meteors are, where they come from. You might tell yourself it’s in service of a greater cause, but you and I both know that’s not the case. You’re researching the meteors and their effects because you’re hoping it will lead you to Clark. You want to know his secret.”

“The fact that you asked to be part of it tells me you do too, Dad. And here I thought you were done with megalomania. Or is that just what you want Martha Kent to believe?”

“I thought we were talking about your love interests.”

Lex smirked. “You really think I’m interested in dating Clark Kent?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Son. Many of the Roman Emperors had Gay lovers. But no, I don’t think you’re attracted to Clark, at least not in that way. It’s more of an aesthetic appreciation. You always did have an eye for beauty, Lex.”

“I inherited it from Mom.”

Lionel’s features tightened. “Among other things.”

“If you’re implying that insanity runs on her side of the family, I should remind you that she was suffering from Post Partum Depression, not to mention having to put up with you. There’s a reason they call us megalomaniacs.”

His father laughed. “Touché, Lex. I must say, I was confused at first when you decided to propose to Miss Lang, but now I think I understand.”

“Understand what, Dad? You think I’m trying to grow a beard? That’s physically impossible for me, you know.”

Lionel shook his head. “No, I don’t think you’re trying to hide behind a façade. When you first started your courtship with her, I thought you were just trying to one-up Clark. But it’s deeper than that, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Lex asked, barely resisting the urge to boot his father out the window. Loss to LuthorCorp, he reminded himself. Lionel was lucky to be such an asset to the company, or else he would have been dead long ago.

“I mean, Lex, that ever since you and Lana Lang have gotten involved, she’s managed to push away every other person in her life.”

“She’s still close with Chloe.”

“But for how long? You’ve isolated her, Lex. You’ve locked her up in your castle and you’re leaving her to rot.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m saying that you never wanted her for yourself, Lex. You just wanted to get her away from Clark. You want to ruin her so thoroughly that she won’t ever want to go back to him. But you’ll never get the opening you’re looking for, Son. Clark Kent isn’t one to just let things go either. Granted he hides it better than you, but he has some of those same obsessive tendencies. He’s used to loving Lana Lang from a distance. Your interference won’t change anything.”

Lex simmered at the older man, repeating the phrase, “asset to the company” like a mantra in his head. Then again, there was always the Corporate Life Insurance…. No. He was still useful. At least for now.

“Thanks for helping me out tonight, Dad,” he said. “You’ve always had my best interest at heart.”

Lionel was one of the few individuals smart enough to realize that that was his cue to leave. He stood. “I’m always looking out for you, Son. Be more careful from now on.”

“Believe me, I will.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said before turning to leave. Just as the doors opened, Lex called out after him:

“Dad?”

He turned around. “Yes, Son?”

“You’d really be okay with having a Gay son?”

Lionel chuckled. “You’re too much of a womanizer for me to ever see you as anything worse than bisexual, Lex. But even if you were only attracted to the same sex, I’d still love you. With me as a father, you’re lucky you didn’t turn out much worse.”

And with that, he left.

Clark entered the barn and began climbing the stairs to his loft. Despite his phenomenal strength, his steps were weighted. He wasn’t tired. He didn’t get tired. But he was emotionally exhausted.

Oliver had gone back to Metropolis, saying a few things about how he should really think of joining the team, and Clark had given him the usual excuse that he had other things to take care of. Which he did, of course. He never lied if he could help it. But he wasn’t telling the whole truth either.

He stopped that line of thought there. He’d discussed it to death with Chloe earlier, and it had led him down a road that he didn’t want to revisit. Ever.

As he reached the top step, Clark saw another person in his loft, staring out the window at the stars. She had a tall, curvy frame, a fair complexion, and long, black hair. He cleared his throat.

The woman turned around, and when he saw her eyes, he immediately knew who she was. “Artemis.”

She smiled. “Clark Kent. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, walking towards her. “Do you remember anything?”

“All of it. The men received orders to clear out not long after Lex departed, and in the confusion, they forgot to wipe my memory of the events. I have a feeling I'll be remembering this night for a long time.”

Clark dropped his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have been awake under the knife before. I’m not going to be scarred for life or anything. I am disappointed that things did not work out the way I intended, but there is no need for you to worry about me. I will be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

She laughed smugly. “There is so much about me that Lex has underestimated. If he knew the truth…. Well, I'll leave that to your imagination. Thank you for trying to rescue me, though. I appreciate it.”

He gaped. “How did you….”

“I know more than you can imagine. I will not bore you with the details. Just know that this is not the last you will see of me.” She walked past him, towards the stairs, pausing at the top step. Peering over her shoulder, she said: “Goodbye… Kal-El.”

And before he could even open his mouth to reply, she was gone.

Chloe stepped into the Talon and sighed. The tears had ceased falling on the drive home, but the crater in her chest remained. It was times like this where she felt like she really didn’t know Clark at all. He was the single most noble and responsible person she knew, but when it came to relationships, he was no better than humans.

This time it wasn’t his fault, though. He’d opened up to her, told her the things she’d always wanted to hear from him, and what did she do? She threw it away, just like the letter she read to him when he was sick. Just like the files she’d deleted earlier today when she wasn’t herself.

She felt a sudden pain in her skull and she closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. When she opened them again, she was greeted by, of all things, a toilet.

She was eight. She stood in the bathroom, fighting the urge to cry as her father read a eulogy over Herbie, the goldfish she’d gotten as a present for her birthday two weeks earlier. She’d been devastated to find him belly up in his bowl, and after several minutes of hysterics, had insisted that they give him a proper funeral. Her father, always willing to do anything to please his little girl, had agreed.

Once her father finished reading Herbie his last rites, he stepped forward, emptying the bowl that held the deceased goldfish into the makeshift casket. He reached for the lever that would complete the ceremony.

“Wait!” she cried suddenly, and he stopped.

Taking a deep breath, she moved closer to the white porcelain hearse that would carry Herbie to his final resting place. She stretched out her arm, covered her reflection in the chrome handle with her palm, and flushed the toilet herself.

The scene evaporated as she arrived at the stairs and began her ascent. She would have wondered why such a seemingly random memory had suddenly decided to reassert itself, if she hadn’t already known. Herbie was the only pet she’d ever had. The only one she felt she could talk to in her mother’s absence. She’d tried opening up to her father, but she never felt quite so at ease as when she was pouring her soul out to the goldfish that she’d gotten for her eighth birthday.

Herbie served a vital function that her father never could: he was the perfect listener. He never interrupted her or tried to end the conversation early like her father did whenever the subject of her mother came up. Looking back at those times, through the special lens that years of experience dealing with hard emotions had given her, she realized that the reason her dad didn’t like to talk about her mother was because it hurt too much to be reminded of her, especially by his own offspring.

But things were different with Herbie. Even though he couldn’t even blink in response to her rambling, just having an audience was cathartic enough, and she was actually encouraged by the fact that he couldn’t respond. One of the reasons she grew to like writing so much was because it achieved the same effect of granting her a captive audience. It was there, in her room, pacing in front of a goldfish bowl like she was on a stage, that her passion for words had first been born.

Sure, she had developed a bit of a lexical fixation from the first moment her mother had read her a bedtime story, but it wasn’t until she discovered the rejuvenating effect that just venting her feelings without worrying what others would say in response (an effect she would later come to know as catharsis) that she started to pour her soul out onto paper. Before he’d met his untimely demise, she had taken to reading her juvenile compositions to Herbie. It was easier, she found, to recite her feelings from a script rather than just venting them as they came to her. After Herbie died, she kept a journal of her thoughts. She still had it around, somewhere.

Her father hadn’t gotten her any more pets after that. So she’d buried herself in writing, progressing from scribbles to commendations from the teacher in a matter of weeks. It was her retreat, her Bridge to Terabithia, her way of escaping from the pain that she felt whenever she thought of her mother and wondered why she had been abandoned.

She remembered once telling Clark about that time in her life, when he’d asked her how she’d gotten into writing. He’d probably been expecting something like, “It’s a hobby of mine,” or, “I don’t know, it just happened,” or even—she gasped—what she regarded as the most annoying cliché of all: “Oh, I’ve just always had a way with words.” Yuck.

Her response had obviously surprised him; even if she hadn’t been extraordinarily good at reading people and determining their thoughts and motives—a talent she’d developed over countless interviews—the fact that he had yet to close his mouth was like a giant neon sign declaring: “WTF?”

Chloe had laughed then, and warned him about the dangers of attracting flies. He’d blushed, closing his mouth and turning rigid, not daring to look her in the eye. She remembered thinking how cute he looked when he thought he had offended her.

She had not expected him to reply: “Why didn’t your father get you any more pets? Obviously having one did something for you.”

“I told him not to,” she’d answered, and even though he didn’t air out his tonsils this time, he still looked shocked.

“Why?”

She had shrugged then, telling him simply: “I don’t know.”

But now she did. Even though she only had Herbie for a short time, she’d connected with her goldfish on a level she never knew existed before. She had loved, and lost. She didn’t want to lose again.

Clark, she realized, was a lot like Herbie had been. Someone to connect with, someone to open up to, but never someone who reciprocated what she felt, even though she loved him more than anyone else in the world. She thought of herself as open-minded now, but if Herbie had suddenly started talking to her, she would have flushed him down the toilet a lot sooner. It just seemed wrong to her, even though some part of her was interested to know what he thought. It wasn’t the way her world was supposed to work. Catharsis is only possible in the midst of a Greek Tragedy, and it was the only thing she knew.

It was the only way she could explain why she’d chosen to push away from Clark when he’d finally stopped running ahead of her and taken away the thrill of the chase. She still loved him, greatly at that, but it wasn’t supposed to work like that. He wasn’t supposed to love her back. She wasn’t supposed to have a happy ending.

‘There’s something seriously wrong with me, isn’t there?’ she asked no one as she reached the top step. ‘Why won’t I let myself be satisfied?’

But she already knew the answer. It was because she was afraid that once she got everything she wanted, it would all be taken from her, just as Herbie had been. It would be like the Spring Formal all over again, where she’d been so afraid that Clark would leave her for Lana, and so devastated when he ended up doing just that. So rather than let herself be hurt, she refused to put herself at risk. Her relationship with Clark worked best when the feelings were one-sided. She refused to accept any alternative, because she might just end up getting too attached, only to lose everything.

She sighed. Sometimes she wished she wasn’t so keenly perceptive, especially of herself. Her incredible analytical skills, which she’d honed over the years and always used to her advantage, were what had brought her to this state she was in now. She knew the truth about herself, and it hurt. Maybe there was something to the denial her friends all seemed to practice. But Chloe could never lie to herself like that. It wasn’t in her nature.

Sighing one more time, she turned the handle and opened the door to the apartment. She expected to be greeted by her cousin, who had probably come back from the farm by now. As she entered the living room, she discovered that there was, in fact, someone already in the apartment.

It wasn’t Lois.

“Jimmy?” Her heart sped up as he stepped forward. The pain was evident in his face, and she felt her heart sink even further. There were so many casualties tonight. This was one she’d forgotten.

“Chloe,” he breathed, quickening his pace and enveloping her in a hug. “CK told me everything. Are you alright?”

“Yeah. What are you doing here?”

“Are you kidding? I don’t wanna be anywhere if I’m not with you.”

“Overprotective much?”

“Nah, just sentimental. I think that’s what your dad likes about me.”

Chloe giggled. Jimmy and her father did get along great. They had so many of the same traits, including an insufferable bravado that, when one considered their actual physical appearance, made their desire to protect her seem almost laughable. But they both loved her unconditionally; of that she had no doubt.

It was what she loved about him. Freudian implications notwithstanding, it wasn’t just his similarities to Clark that had attracted her to Jimmy. It was his impossible optimism, his unbreakable spirit, and his puppy dog devotion to her that all combined to make Jimmy someone she really liked to be with.

But not for the rest of her life.

What they had wasn’t love, no matter how much Clark insisted as such just to satisfy his martyr complex. It was mutual attraction, sure, but Chloe never let herself be fooled. She knew what they had wasn’t going to last. It couldn’t, because she didn’t really love him. Not the way she loved Clark.

Jimmy was more than just a means for her to prove that she was over Clark. He was safe. It was ironic to think of him in such terms considering what they’d done on the last day of their internship, but she really did feel at ease around him. Not protected like she did with Clark, but simply like she didn’t need protecting. He got her to relax and feel good about herself. He encouraged her and cheered her on. But he was always on the sidelines, never in the game. Just like she was always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

And so they found solace in one another.

Chloe included Jimmy in some of her adventures, and in return, he made her feel wanted. But they weren’t complements. Each of them had a need that could only be met by the other, but otherwise they were very independent people. At least she was. Jimmy, on the other hand, was devoted to her. He relied on her fully, while she had yet to surrender her burden to him. In some ways it reminded her of how she’d always been towards Clark.

She couldn’t give her heart to Jimmy, because Clark had already stolen it long ago. And even if she did get it back from him, he’d mangled it enough over the years that it was no longer fit to offer anyone else. Not that she could ever pry it from his grasp, as he’d demonstrated earlier.

But she couldn’t bear another loss. She wouldn’t chase Jimmy away, not now. It wasn’t denial, because she knew exactly how this was going to end. But she couldn’t handle the truth right now. So rather than lie, she said nothing, hoping that reality wouldn’t intervene before her heart was ready to accept her fate.

And as she looked up at Jimmy, looked into his crystal-blue eyes that reminded her so much of Clark’s but could never hold the same warmth, then kissed him, feeling nothing but a ghostly sensation of a love that was never really there, she knew that it was sealed.

And then they parted.

Lana sat alone in the room. She would have noticed how the blue light made her appear otherworldly in nature as it saturated her skin, if her mind hadn’t already become a cocoon. She was here, alone, because she wanted to think. It seemed to be the only thing she had time for nowadays.

It wasn’t easy to convince Chloe to let her go back with Lex. But for some reason other than the one she had given her friend, Lana felt compelled to return. To sit in this chair one last time. To wonder what might have been.

The pregnancy had been difficult to accept from the outset. Her first missed period was a sign of the apocalypse. She’d felt her heart thunder in her chest as she stared at a tiny dot no larger than her knuckle, and for those brief, nerve-wracking moments, her entire future depended on whether it turned pink, or blue. It was blue.

She’d felt her heart take a swan dive into her stomach, splashing her insides with sorrow and regret. Then she’d withdrawn, retreating into the stronghold of her mind. It was how she’d always dealt with grief. And that was the only thing she felt for those first few days. That and despair.

It had amazed her, when she told Lex, how truly excited he seemed about the possibility of a child. Knowing what she did now, it no longer held the same intrigue. He was the one who had orchestrated the whole thing. He was the one who tore her future from her grasp and almost made her lose all hope. She had clung to him then, seeing him as the last great stone in the rapids that had become her life, which she imagined as the same river that drowned Emily, all those years ago.

But she’d discovered that standing on a rock in the middle of a stream that she was unable to cross could be just as bad as struggling to stay afloat. She was no longer drowning in her own sorrows, but she was still stranded. She could see her friends, just on the other side of the stampeding waters, calling to her. But she could not join them. She wondered if she had ever truly known what it was like to walk on dry land.

Why had she loved him? What had she seen in him, last year, when the match was dropped and the fire between them was ignited? Why had she never realized that the flames were only in her imagination? When had they extinguished and been replaced by the frosty blue light that made her surroundings feel so cold, so alien?

Venturing outside the gates of the prison that she’d once been proud to call her mind, she examined the room before her with clinical detachment. The wallpaper abounded with hot air balloons, and she chuckled bitterly as she considered what the imagery implied about Lex. He always was a blowhard.

There was a white crib in the corner, next to which sat a small bed for when the baby was older. She had imagined reading bedtime stories from the chair in which she sat. Mother Goose and Dr. Seuss, and everything in between. Now that could be no more real than the events described in the books they’d chosen to adorn the bookcase that lay adjacent to the bed.

Above the bed there was a small chandelier, next to which hung a mobile. There was a rocking horse to her right. She had imagined letting the baby practice on that, before giving her child real riding lessons of the same type she’d had as a young girl. It was no longer something to be dreamed of.

She started humming Cat’s in the Cradle.

The saddest part of this whole thing was that until today, until she realized that the whole thing was a lie, she really had fallen in love with the idea of being a mother. She wanted to see her baby born. She’d even picked out a name: Evan.

Lana realized the multiple levels of irony in naming her baby after a second-generation meteor mutant she had found in a crater. One that Clark had helped her to take care of, no less. But that wasn’t why she chose it. None of that occurred to her until after she had decided what to call her child. It was because she had really enjoyed being the original Evan’s mother, and, even if she hadn’t given birth to him, she still felt a connection. She still felt the need to honor him.

But most of all, it was because of the promise she’d made to Evan, the promise she had kept. He wanted to see a windmill before he died. So she had taken him to Chandler’s field, to the windmill that overlooked the Metropolis skyline. She had shown him the world.

She had wanted to do the same for this Evan. She wanted to let him see the world outside her womb, to love him and raise him and cherish every moment they had together. Evan had given her a brief taste of what it was like to be a mother, but she wanted to experience the whole thing. It wasn’t about a legacy or passing on the genes. It was about making promises and keeping them. It was about having someone of her own, someone to love. It was about holding the future in her arms.

Idly, she realized that the lights were off, and that the moon was the source of the dim glow that chilled her insides. But it was the only light she needed. After all, there wasn’t anything to see. All the decorations, all the furniture, all the toys… they would be gone tomorrow. There was no reason to keep them anymore. Lex was a businessman, not a packrat—he didn’t believe in holding on to unnecessary things. Even The Talon had only been a ploy to get closer to her.

Had she ever really loved him? It would have struck her as odd that her mind kept returning to the subject, if she hadn’t known exactly why she couldn’t let it go. It was because she couldn’t deny that she had felt something for him at one point. But like everyone that he tried to get close to, Lex had destroyed whatever it was that made her come to him in the first place. He was like a weed among flowers, undercutting the roots of those closest to him and stealing their sustenance until whatever love they felt for him withered and died. She’d sown her seeds too close to him in the past. Only now did she realize her mistake.

Why had she stayed with him, when spending less than twenty-four hours under the spell of a meteor freak was enough to shatter the already rotten foundations of their relationship? What hopeless ideal had she been clinging to this time? It did not surprise her to realize that it was the same thing that motivated her to travel to the graveyard almost every week after her parents died, an activity she’d only recently given up. She was trying to hold on to a connection that was no longer fully there. Only its ghost remained.

Now she had to make a choice.

Could she leave him, knowing what it would bring? It wouldn’t be as easy as leaving Clark. Not only had that been his decision, but he also wasn’t the same as the man who had tried to strangle her in the coffee shop tonight. She knew from experience that the Luthors never truly let anything go. She still thought of Clark, but at this point he was like sand in her clothing; a minor irritant at best. Lex on the other hand was a steel bear trap. The only way to escape was to cripple herself, and even then she was still being hunted. The odds of her walking away unscathed were not even worth considering, because the damage had already been done.

She couldn’t stay. But she couldn’t leave either. She rocked back and forth in the chair, moving and yet planted in one spot. Like running in place, or revving the engine of a car in neutral. She wanted to go, but she was tethered to a pole. Only that pole wasn’t Lex.

It was her.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She would decide in the morning. She had stood up halfway when she felt the smallest of sensations in her gut.

Lana sat back down.

Staring incredulously at her belly, she lifted her shirt and stroked her navel. Had she imagined that?

She felt it again. Then she gasped, and a single name found its way to her lips, emerging in the form of a whisper:

“Evan?”

Sapphic, Act Three

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:46:07 GMT

The third act. Everything comes to a head....

“C’mon, Jimmy, pick up!”

Clark had run all the way back to his barn before deciding to call Chloe’s boyfriend. He hoped he hadn’t gone to The Talon already. That would mean disaster.

From the way he answered the phone, however, it was clear he had. “Hey, CK.”

His voice was dull, and had he attempted to speak in longer syllables Clark was sure he would have slurred. “Jimmy, are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m great. Just great. At least I will be soon.”

Clark heard what sounded like a glass mug hitting granite. “Have you been drinking?”

“What else am I supposed to do? My girlfriend’s got a girlfriend of her own now.”

“Jimmy, Chloe’s not herself. You have to….” He trailed off as it occurred to him that getting Jimmy involved in this might be dangerous. “Actually, stay there. Don’t leave until I come get you.”

“Sure thing, CK. Later.”

“Bye.” He hung up, and immediately dialed Chloe. He hated doing this to her, but it was the only way to break the spell.

“Hello?”

“Chloe! You’ve gotta get to my barn, quick!” He figured the urgency would get her to come over, and he didn’t even have to fake it. It really was important that she get here as soon as possible.

“Okay, just give me a few minutes. Not all of us run faster than the speed of sound.”

“Lana’s not around, is she?”

“She’s downstairs getting coffee. Want me to bring you a cup?”

“No, just get here as fast as you can. Come alone.”

“Alright, just hang on. I’m coming.”

“See you then. Bye.”

He scanned around, searching for a spot to hide. He finally settled on the rafters. It had been where a lot of his foes had chosen to ambush him from in the past, so he figured it would do nicely. Now he just had to wait, and hope that Chloe didn’t think to look up.

“Clark?”

Chloe looked around the barn. “Hello?”

She sighed. Maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence that the name of his home planet was similar to a word that meant “hidden” in Greek. He’d always been a bit aloof, but this was just ridiculous.

“Clark? Are you there?”

She climbed the stairs to his loft, idly reflecting on the fact that Clark was the only person she knew who spent a majority of his time hanging out in a barn. A barn that mysteriously didn’t smell like one would expect. Of course that may have been due to the HEPA filters the Kents had installed long ago to purify the air. She was certainly grateful for that. It meant she could call her best alien friend’s name without sounding like a goose.

“Clark, hello?” She turned around while continuing to climb the stairs. “I'll have you know Lana was very disappointed when I left! This had better be important!”

THUD!

Before she could even turn around, strong hands grabbed her and warm lips claimed hers like she had imagined they would on so many sleepless nights. But the times when she would have gladly accepted and even returned such affections were long past. She pushed away, and to her surprise, she was released.

“Clark, what the hell?!”

He looked surprised. The nerve! “It didn’t work?”

“What didn’t work?!”

“Artemis said the only way to break the spell was the kiss of a man.”

Chloe blinked as she processed that. Then she scowled. “Well here’s a thought, Clark: you’re not a man! You’re an alien from outer space! No wonder it didn’t work!”

The words hit Clark harder than a bullet made of Kryptonite. If he hadn’t been struggling to stand after the verbal blow, it would have disturbed him that he knew enough to make the comparison. Instead his thoughts were focused on what she had just said to him. What she’d never said before. What he never thought she’d say.

“Chloe….”

“Shut up! You know, the fact that you even believed it would work just goes to show what a sexist you really are! You Kryptonians are so damn arrogant! It makes me sick!”

“Chloe!” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to me! This isn’t you! That’s Artemis controlling you! You’ve gotta fight this!”

“You don’t get it, do you?! This is me!” she screamed, digging through her purse and producing a small, lead box.

When she opened it, he felt his strength turn against him, boiling his insides with his own blood. He couldn’t breathe, not when his lungs were constricting and his heart was gearing to explode. He collapsed to the floor.

Chloe grabbed the chunk of Kryptonite, casting the lead box aside and drawing it back behind her head as she crouched down, ready to deliver the death blow.

Then she screamed.

Fighting off the green haze that swam at the corners of his vision, he saw Chloe drop to the floor, convulsions wracking her body as the Kryptonite radiation assailed her. He wanted to scream, wanted to call her name, but his lungs were rapidly filling with fluid. He needed to get away. Fast.

Then purple light was expelled from her body, evaporating into the wind that blew through the loft. In moments she was on her feet, hurrying over to where she’d thrown the box made of lead. She put the Kryptonite inside it, then closed the lid.

Immediately the world stopped spinning and Clark was able to breathe again. He panted, wiping the sweat off his face.

Chloe was at his side instantly, helping him up. She stared at him, horrified at what she’d almost done. “Clark?”

“This is… usually the part where you say, ‘What happened?’”

“Only when I don’t actually remember,” she replied, her voice somber.

His eyes grew wide. “You mean….”

“Yes, I remember everything. But it’s just like you are on Red Kryptonite. I can remember the details, but the perspective’s changed. I’m back to normal, Clark.”

“Oh thank God,” he breathed.

“Thank the Kryptonite,” she said, holding up the lead box. “If I hadn’t tried to murder you, I might still be in love with Lana.”

“About that….”

“We’ll discuss it later, Clark. Right now we really need to find the others, fast.”

Suddenly they heard a man scream in pain, followed by a stream of expletives that would make a longshoreman assume the fetal position.

“Lois!” they both shouted.

“Sexist prick!” She kicked him in the stomach. “Thinking you can just come up and kiss me after you broke my heart! Things have changed, Ollie! I’m not in love with you anymore!”

Lois had gone back to the Kent farm after driving around for a while so she could be sure Clark left. Then Oliver Queen had come out of nowhere and tried to lay one on her. So she’d kneed him in the crotch.

He groaned, clutching at his abdomen. “Lois….”

She kicked him again. “You don’t get to talk! Only suffer!”

Oliver writhed in pain, wishing he’d brought Clark along for backup. At least he couldn’t get hurt.

Not that he was going to take this lying down either. His arm shot out suddenly and he grabbed her ankle, then pulled. She fell down next to him.

Now on the offensive, Oliver scrambled over to where she lay and straddled her, pinning her arms to the ground. As she squirmed beneath him, he couldn’t help smirking. “Just like old times, huh?”

“Why do they all say that?” Lois wondered aloud before smashing her forehead into his, forcing him back. She rolled to her feet. Oliver stood as well.

“You seem happy to see me,” he noted dryly, dodging a punch. She tried a spin kick, and he ducked to avoid it. “Do you greet all your ex-boyfriends this way, or am I just special?”

“What happened to me being the only person you ever regretted leaving?” She feigned left, then quickly shifted her footing and struck out with a right cross. He caught her fist in his palm.

“I still mean that.”

After several moments of trying ineffectually to remove her hand from his grasp, she grunted and kicked him in the shins. He cried out in pain, then fell down hard.

“And I meant what I said about not being able to wait around forever. Tell me, what brings you to Smallville? It can’t just be me.”

He was about to reply when she kicked him in the stomach again. “On second thought, don’t answer that. I told myself I wouldn’t listen to any more of your lies, and I meant it!” She drew her foot back and prepared to strike him one more time.

“Lois!”

She paused, then turned to see Clark and Chloe standing there. “What?!”

After Clark moved a safe distance away, Chloe opened the lead box, taking out the Kryptonite and holding it up to Lois. Her cousin screamed before dropping to the gravel and writhing in convulsions as the purple presence inside her was exorcized. After a few moments, she stood up.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded as Chloe put the Kryptonite away.

“Meteor rock,” she explained. “Counteracts the effects of Artemis’ spell.”

“Oh thank God,” Oliver said, standing to his feet. For some reason he had decided that this was a romantic moment and tried to go through with his original plan, only to get kneed in the crotch again. He fell to the ground.

“Why?” he moaned.

“Because,” said Lois, standing over him with arms akimbo. “Even though I’m not under that bitch’s spell anymore, you still broke my heart. Therefore, you deserve to be punished.”

Clark and Chloe nodded in agreement.

Oliver groaned.

“We need to find Lana,” Clark said after a moment. “I have a feeling Lex is going after her.”

“Gee, that must have been hard to figure out.”

He glared at Lois, and she did the same. Not to be outdone, he crossed his arms. She copied him again. He let loose an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands in the air.

Before their petulant game of HORSE could continue, Chloe snapped her fingers several times. “Um, guys? Lana’s in danger? We should probably help her?”

That brought them back to reality. “Right,” said Clark. “You and I will go to The Talon. Lois, you stay here and….” The three of them looked down to where Oliver writhed in the dirt. “…and keep an eye on him.”

“My pleasure,” she replied, gleeful menace dancing in her eyes as she ground her fist into her palm.

Oliver gulped.

Lex entered The Talon to find Lana where he’d seen her so many times before: behind the counter. He smiled.

“Lana!”

To her credit, she didn’t gasp. She’d seen him enter, but she still regarded him as a stranger, studying his features like it was the first time she’d seen him. Then her eyes flashed purple and she grinned like the devil.

“Lex. What brings you here?”

“Well, considering I own the place, do I really need a reason?”

“If you’re here to take me back I have bad news.”

“I know about your little Lesbian affair with Chloe. You’re not yourself, Lana.”

She laughed, walking around the counter. “You think you’ve seen the real me? How do you know who I am? People have to lie to survive around you, Alexander Luthor. That’s what you’ve turned me into: a liar.”

“I doubt I did much more than bring out something that was already there,” he countered, stepping closer to her. “You always did like to keep secrets.”

“Everyone in this town does. But I was honest, once.”

They were only a few feet apart. Lana stopped walking. Lex did not. “Yes, you were. But I’m not the one who pushed you to the point where you don’t feel like you can trust anyone. Clark did.”

“Clark has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong!” he shouted, sounding almost like he had three years earlier, just before he’d been committed to Belle-Reeve. “Clark has more to do with this than anyone! He’s kept so many secrets from you, Lana. Secrets about himself. Secrets that you begged him to share with you but he never did. And that’s where I came in! You ran to me after he broke your heart, and I gave you everything he never could! I gave you the life you always wanted! I gave you money! I gave you power! I would have given you a child!”

“But you didn’t!” she interrupted him. “There’s one thing you forgot to give me, Lex, and that’s the truth! You’re no better than Clark when it comes to that, and you know it!”

“Maybe not! But at least I had my reasons for lying to you!”

“Wrong!” she accused him. “That’s backwards! Clark’s the one who keeps secrets for a reason! You just lie to control people!”

“When have I ever done that?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about trying to convince me that you were concerned about my safety when all you really wanted was the stone?! Or hiding the black ship from me and letting me think I was crazy! Not to mention fooling me into thinking I was pregnant so I’d marry you! Pick your favorite!”

Lex growled, but instead of slapping her in the face like he wanted to, he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pulled her into a kiss.

His lips were cold, noted Lana. It was like kissing a snake. And knowing what she did about Lex, such a comparison really wasn’t that far off. It brought her no pleasure.

Reaching behind her, she grabbed a mug off the counter, swinging it around and smashing it into Lex’s head. He screamed in pain and staggered backwards, tripping over a chair.

She picked up one of the chairs and raised it above her head before bringing it crashing down. Lex barely rolled out of the way in time, and one of the legs hit him in the back as the chair splintered and broke against the floor. He rolled onto his back.

Tossing the makeshift weapon aside, Lana rushed over to Lex’s supine body, kicking him in the ribs and coaxing a howl from the fallen billionaire. Spinning, she raised her foot high in the air and sent her heel barreling down towards his chest, aided by gravity.

He saw the attack coming, and rather than try to dodge again, he hooked one of his hands around Lana’s ankle and yanked it out from under her. She hit her head hard against the floor, but kipped to her feet nonetheless. He rolled to a standing position.

They squared off, with Lex assuming a low wrestling stance, arms bowed by his sides, ready to rush forward and tackle her. Lana stood with one foot in front of the other, hands in front of her face. She scowled, and he did likewise. They started circling each other.

“You’re forgetting something, Lana,” he panted as they continued their dance. “I’m the one who taught you how to fight. You think I don’t know all your moves?”

“I’ve learned a few new ones.”

“I’m still stronger than you. I have more experience as well. There’s no way you’ll win.”

“Well I’d say I’m counting on the fact that you’re a gentleman, but we both know that’s not true now, is it?”

Instead of replying, or perhaps as a means of doing so, Lex charged forward like a toro and Lana spun around, slamming the side of her foot into his right temple and sending him veering off course so that he crashed into one of the tables. Having survived so many close combat situations over the past few years, he recovered almost instantly and turned to face her again. She rushed forward, trying to roundhouse his abdomen. He let the blow connect, then wrapped his arm around her leg and grabbed her shirt before hurling her over the counter.

He walked around slowly, purposefully, relishing every step. Animal fury pounded through his veins, and the beats of his heart thundered in his ear like the drums of war.

When he reached the other side of the counter, he was not prepared for the foot that collided with his face. Lana, having recovered from the throw, grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head into the Cappuccino maker.

“Do you remember when you gave me this, Lex? I always did have trouble figuring it out. But I think I’ve finally got it mastered.”

His left eye was right below the nozzle. If she turned that on….

“Lana, wait!”

She grabbed the handle, and he used the distraction to grab the wrist of the hand that held him, squeezing down on the pressure point on her wrist. Immobilized, Lana was unable to prevent his escape. He moved out of the way just as a stream of scalding hot coffee erupted from the nozzle.

“You never could get the damn thing to work,” he snarled before pinning her down on the counter and wrapping his hands around her throat, trying to choke the effects of Artemis’ spell out of her.

It did not occur to him, as he strangled her, that he was not only robbing her of air, but of any love she may have felt for him. He did not realize, when her arms started to flail and her knees gave out beneath her, that he had become something far more terrible than his father ever was. It wasn’t until she started having a seizure that he thought to let go.

Looking up, he saw Chloe holding a meteor rock in her hand, pointing it towards Lana. Clark stood at the entrance to the coffee shop.

He looked back down at Lana. Her mouth opened and purple light escaped her body, vanishing just as quickly. She opened her eyes.

“Lana….” He reached his hand toward her, but she scrabbled backwards, retreating towards Chloe, who was just putting the meteor rock away. It seemed that even though they were no longer in love, Lana would still rather run to Chloe than the man who was willing to risk killing her rather than give her up.

He met Clark’s eyes across the room. His former friend, his mortal enemy, the one who would always be his rival, shook his head in disappointment. Then he walked out.

And left him standing there, watching his life slip from his hands like water through a butterfly net.

Clark resisted the urge to slam The Talon’s doors behind him, not wanting to have to pay for property damage on top of everything else he’d done to make Lex angry today. Granted, the whole Lana thing wasn’t technically his fault, and he’d actually just saved both of them—Lana, from Lex, and Lex, from himself. But Lex wouldn’t see it that way. He never did nowadays.

There was a time when Clark would have assumed the guilt that went along with the accusations. But he’d long since shrugged it off. What happened to Lex now wasn’t his problem. The billionaire had been right earlier when he’d said they each had too much of their own agenda to fulfill. But if he’d been trying to make Clark feel ashamed, it hadn’t worked. He didn’t even pity the man anymore.

He would have pursued that line of thought even further if a voice hadn’t suddenly said: “Looks like you saved the day again, Boy Scout.” He turned around, not the least bit surprised to find the Green Arrow standing behind him. “But where’s the girl?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Clark riposted. “Feeling more confident now that you’ve got your codpiece?”

Oliver grinned. “Hey, give me some credit. I figured she deserved a few free swings at me. I did my penance. Besides,” his smile disappeared, “we’ve got unfinished business.”

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

“I'll meet you there. Some of us can’t—”

Before he could say another word, Clark went into superspeed and grabbed him before bolting off in the direction of the 33.1 facility they’d infiltrated earlier. He shifted his perception back to normal as soon as they arrived.

“—run faster than a…” He looked around, bewildered at first. Then he realized what had happened and he smirked. “…than a speeding bullet,” he finished.

“I’m getting tired of people saying that,” said Clark. “Is the adjective really necessary?”

“It adds flash,” he replied, shrugging. He scratched his chin, as if mulling something over. “Hm, maybe I should consider changing Bart’s code name. ‘Flash’ doesn’t sound half bad.”

“I thought you weren’t out to do him any more favors after he swiped your credit cards and bought out half of Metropolis.”

“He made some pretty smart investments, I'll give him that. Purchasing the company that prints Warrior Angel has to be my favorite, though. I kept that one.”

“What about my codename?”

“I think I'll let you pick that one. I’d say you can’t do worse than ‘Boy Scout,’ but considering the flannel, I could be wrong.”

“Oh, so people who live in glass houses have an affinity for leather too?”

Oliver laughed. “Touché, farmboy.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We wait till they take her home at least. Neither of us wants her to remember this.”

Clark nodded in agreement. “We should probably—”

His next words were cut short by the sudden fireball that erupted from the warehouse, screaming towards the sky before evaporating into oblivion, leaving only ash behind. Oliver was thrown back, and Clark rushed to his side. He got up after a moment, uninjured.

“Looks like Lex beat us to it,” he noted grimly while dusting himself off. “Let’s just hope there wasn’t anyone inside.”

“There wasn’t.”

“You sure about that?”

Clark was about to say yes, was about to say that he knew Lex, knew his style, when it occurred to him that after what happened tonight, he really didn’t know Lex at all. He’d never seen Lex be so callous towards another person, meteor freak or not. He would never have thought that Lex would be so desperate as to risk killing Lana rather than lose her. Even after everything that happened between them, Clark had still thought of Lex as just misguided; someone who just needed a friend. It had never occurred to him that the man was capable of that kind of evil.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head sadly. “I don’t."

Sapphic, Act Two

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:44:15 GMT

And the second act. The plot thickens....

Oliver had called Clark as soon as his private jet touched down in Metropolis. He took a limo to his penthouse, which he’d kept the lease on just in case he ever needed to stay in the Big Apricot for a few nights. His foresight had paid off, as now he was free to conduct his business on his own property instead of having to worry about bugged hotel rooms. There was also less risk of Clark being exposed.

He shook his head. He really didn’t understand Clark. All that power, power that others could only dream of (and he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t want to be bulletproof), and his biggest ambition in life was to maintain his family’s farm. But then again, maybe that was what made Clark the ideal person to have those powers in the first place. His humility and sense of responsibility were not weaknesses, but safeguards—like the sheath of a sword. If he ever let all that power go to his head, the cover would be stripped off, and he could easily chop the world in two.

He shuddered at the image.

Yes, Clark was definitely the most responsible person he knew. He needed a lot in the way of ambition, but then maybe he’d just grown accustomed to keeping a low profile. But that wasn’t what the boy, the man—no, he was more than that—was meant for. Lurking in the shadows was his thing. Powers like Clark’s deserved to be witnessed by all.

Not, he hastily reminded himself, that he would ever think of exposing his friend. Clark would come forward when he was ready. He just needed a few friendly pushes in the right direction. Oliver thought of himself as the bird who nudges its offspring from the nest for the first time, encouraging them to spread their wings and fly. But someone as stubborn as Clark required a lot of pushing. The guy was capable of moving mountains, but he could be just as difficult to budge.

As the auburn-colored metal door slid open and he stepped into the clock-themed loft, Oliver saw that the subject of his thoughts was already there, waiting for him. He smirked.

“What took you so long?”

“Some of us don’t run faster than a speeding bullet.”

“Some of us don’t throw ourselves in front of them knowing they can hurt us. Everyone has different talents, Ollie.”

The blond grinned. “Speaking of which, how’s Watchtower? There’s still more spots on the team for both of you.”

“Actually, we have a problem on that front.”

His smile disappeared. “Did Lex take her?”

Clark shook his head. “No, although after your phone call and Jimmy saying she hadn’t shown up to the Daily Planet this morning, that’s what I first thought too. She’s fine, at least physically.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

He looked away. “She’s… a Lesbian.”

Oliver blinked. Of all the things he had expected Clark to say, he had not been prepared for that. “Bart’ll be crushed,” he quipped, his familiar wit returning once he got over the initial shock. “Are you sure?”

“I walked in on her and Lana making out. Apparently they’re in love.”

“Since when?”

“Last night.”

“I’ve known several GLBT’s in my time, Clark. Sexual orientation isn’t something you can just flip a switch on.”

“It is if the person causing the switch has meteor powers,” he said, tossing a file on the Oliver’s desk. He quirked an eyebrow. “GLBT?”

“Gay, Lesbian, Bi, and Transgender,” clarified Oliver. He picked up the file and looked inside. “Where’d you get this?”

“All those years working with Chloe must have rubbed off on me,” he admitted, shrugging. “I couldn’t manage more than a basic google search, though. Her name’s Dania Matzán, but she calls herself Artemis. She was in Smallville two years ago when the second meteor shower hit.”

“So you’re saying she can make women attracted to each other.”

Clark nodded. “When I was talking with Chloe, I saw her eyes flash purple. Look at the picture.”

Oliver did, and was surprised to see lavender where he would have expected blue or brown. “Her eyes.”

“Exactly. I think she has the ability to put people under her spell, to control who they’re attracted to. I think it might have something to do with pheromones, but I’m not sure exactly how. I think the effects transfer whenever the affected person kisses somebody.”

“Thus explaining why the bridesmaid is suddenly the girlfriend,” Oliver surmised. “I'll look into it. Right now we have other things to worry about.”

“Right, 33.1. Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Still abroad. I didn’t want to bring them in on this.”

“Why not?”

“Too risky. AC would be a liability since the facility isn’t near water, and Lex has been outfitting his guards at that lab with high energy weapons of the same type used by Syntechniks. I don’t want Victor putting himself at risk.”

Clark understood the feeling. He’d seen what happened to Victor last time his fuel cell was punctured. He wouldn’t want him in on this either. “What about Bart?”

“He fulfilled the recon part of his duties. The less people we try and sneak in there, the better.”

“So it’s just you and me.”

The billionaire nodded. “I'll handle strategy, you do the heavy lifting.”

Clark was happy with that setup. “We’d better get to work, then.”

Oliver agreed.

“I’m telling you, I was just here last night!”

The bouncer shook her head. “Sorry. Don’t recognize ya.”

“Moira, right? The one who tried to extort us last night? Do you even remember that?”

“I think I’d remember someone as annoying as you.”

Lois huffed. She was not annoying! She was just too much for some people to handle. “I wanna speak to Artemis.”

“Never heard of her.”

“Geez, what kind of operation are you people running? I don’t care if I have to kick your ass from here to Gotham, I’m getting inside.”

Moira crossed her arms and glared. “No, you’re not.”

Lois was preparing to throw down with the overly secretive bouncer when she heard a familiar voice. “Moira.”

The skull-haired bouncer scowled, and stepped out of the way. Lois stuck her tongue out at her just like the night before. Moira cracked her knuckles.

“Artemis,” Lois greeted as she stepped inside. “Do you just like to watch her torture people like that before you intervene?”

The purple-eyed club owner smirked. “Moira is a good litmus test for showing who is determined enough to get inside. This is a very exclusive club, Miss Lane.”

“I'll say. Just what goes on here?”

“Why don’t we go to my office?” suggested Artemis. “We will talk more in there.”

Lois shrugged. “Alright.”

It wasn’t one of those seedy back-offices that one sees in movies, with dim lighting and cigarette smoke combining to create a disorienting haze. Instead the room was crisp and modern, with stainless steel and hardwood framing impressive works of stained glass. Artemis sat at her desk, swiveling elegantly in her chair. Lois remained standing.

“What can I do for you, Miss Lane?”

She didn’t like the woman enough to insist that she call her “Lois.” “I wanna know what you did to my cousin Chloe last night.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Something wrong?! My little cuz has been into boys for almost as long as I have! She has a boyfriend who works at the Daily Planet, fer Chrissake!”

“It does not appear that way anymore.”

“And I know you had something to do with it. Tell me: what made Chloe convince Lana to change her first name to K.D.?”

Artemis smirked. “Honestly, I thought you would be happy with the arrangements. At least this way Miss Lang does not have to marry, as you put it, ‘the Devil.’”

“Well they’re both going to Hell now anyway,” she retorted, and Artemis shrugged. “Chloe’s dad is hardcore Catholic. He’s not gonna like this.”

“Surely that is less frightening than your friend becoming the next Mrs. Luthor, though, no?”

Lois’ features hardened into a scowl. “Who Lana marries is her choice. I have issues with people who try and take away free will.”

“Is anyone’s will really free? You mentioned your cousin was Catholic. Can you ever really reconcile Original Sin? The lesser of two evils is always the better choice.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. As manipulative as Lex can be, at least he doesn’t try and force people to change who they are. You’re more evil than he is as far as I’m concerned.”

Artemis smirked. “You really believe that?”

“I do. What did you do to Chloe?”

She stood. “I’m afraid, Miss Lane, that I could never explain the exact science of it to you. You’d hardly be interested anyway.”

“I’m a pretty smart girl. Lay it on me.”

Artemis grinned. “As you wish. But be careful exactly what you wish for, Miss Lane.”

She strode over to her, eyes filled with mischief. Her hips sashayed as she walked, and Lois rolled her eyes. When she looked again, Artemis was right in front of her.

“You want to know what I did to your cousin to make her fall in love with Lex Luthor’s fiancée?”

Lois nodded.

“This.” Before Lois could react, the dark-haired woman gripped her by the shoulders with surprising strength and drew their lips together. Her eyes widened in shock, but before she acted on any thoughts of physical violence, they flashed purple and closed as she gave into the kiss.

‘All too easy,’ Artemis thought smugly before releasing her new pet to go cause havoc.

Martha Kent arrived home that afternoon, going over the meeting with Lionel in her head. They had talked about the upcoming United States Senate election, and he had told her that her chances of winning looked good. She had smiled at the news.

Smiled on the outside, of course. Her insides were still a hurricane, and she’d yet to navigate to the eye. Her life had changed so quickly over the past year. It was almost too much for her to handle.

But she pressed on of course, putting on the same brave face that she’d assumed during the tornadoes and both meteor showers. People were relying on her, and she had to appear strong. Fortunately, as a mother, she had plenty of experience in that department.

Still, politics was leagues beyond what she’d had to deal with in the past. Going over the State’s budget made all those evenings where she and Jonathan had wondered where the money would come from to save their farm, seem insignificant. Drafting and defending a plan for Education Reform in the State of Kansas was far more difficult than convincing her husband to let Clark attend elementary school had been, because now she had to persuade hundreds of thousands of people instead of just one.

Lionel had helped guide her through the rougher waters. She used to think of him as a shark, but lately he’d been her escort through the treacherous ocean. He’d taught her what to look for, how to act, and what to say in order to not only cross the river safely, but to dam the current and make it flow the way she wanted. He’d shown her how easy people could be manipulated.

But she’d kept her integrity. Now that Lionel had become an emissary for Jor-El, he was far less dangerous. He still lived up to the first four letters of his name on a regular basis, but she had always been a Tigress herself. She was able to handle him. Clark worried, of course, just as Jonathan would have—and had, during the brief time she’d worked for Lionel—but she knew she could take care of herself if things ever got too dangerous.

Her forced smile earlier had been because of Clark. She knew that losing Jonathan had been hard on him, because even though he was from another planet, Clark still thought of her late husband as his real father. If she did win the election to the U.S. Senate, she would have to move to Washington to be near her constituents. She didn’t want to put Clark through losing her too. Not when she could prevent it.

She knew what Clark would say, of course. He would tell her to go, to make a difference. But she found herself torn between wanting to help people and being there for her son. Between opportunity and love. Between destiny and making her own decisions. It was the same issue Clark faced, and she didn’t want to choose.

But she couldn’t sit on the fence forever. Eventually she had to decide. She just didn’t want to do it right now.

She walked past Lois’ car on her way to the farm house. Clark had mentioned that she’d be here when he called earlier. Her features brightened.

Lois had been a big help too. Without her, Jonathan never would have won the election. Chloe’s cousin, though tactless and blunt, had a directness about her that made her invaluable in her position as Martha’s Chief of Staff. She’d also come to think of Lois as a friend. A daughter, almost. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d adopted, that she felt the need to mother everyone who came into her life to compensate for her inability to have children, that made her see the young woman that way. That didn’t make their connection any less special. Lois was family.

She opened the door and entered the kitchen, setting down her purse. If she hadn’t already known Lois was going to be there, she would have jumped at the fact that she was standing there, staring at her. The intensity of the stare was a little unnerving, though. It was almost like a leer.

“Oh, hey Lois,” she greeted. “Thank goodness you’re here. We need to go over my campaign for the upcoming election.”

“We can do that later, Senator Kent,” Lois said, moving towards her in a manner that reminded Martha of a predator stalking its prey. “Right now I’ve got other things on my mind.”

She arched an eyebrow. “What kind of things?”

“You.”

Clark had also told her in his message that Lois had gone to investigate something that was making Chloe and Lana act… differently, was the word he used. She would have to ask him what he meant by that. At the moment, however, she couldn’t help wondering if whatever had gotten into Lana and Chloe had affected Lois as well. She certainly wasn’t behaving like herself.

“Lois, what’s gotten into you?” she asked, concerned, as she slowly backed away from her Chief of Staff. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Never better.”

“Are you sure? You’re acting a little strange.”

Lois grinned, and her eyes flashed a bright shade of purple. “Guess I finally fit in with this crazy town, then.”

Before Martha could react, Lois had grabbed her by the shoulders. She gasped.

“You know, I always envied you, Mrs. Kent. I thought it was because you managed to find a husband like Jonathan. But now I’ve realized something. I was never jealous of you.”

She moved their faces closer together. “I was jealous of him,” she whispered.

Martha was just about to ask her what she meant by that when the back door burst open.

“Mom!”

‘Oh thank God,’ she thought as Lois released her and glared at Clark, who had just entered.

“Way to ruin the moment there, Smallville.”

“Lois, what’s going on?” He noticed her eyes were glowing purple. “You’ve been affected by Artemis!”

“Congratulations, Encyclopedia Brown,” Lois snarked. “You’ve solved the mystery.”

Clark stepped between them. “Mom, get back!”

“What’s going on?”

“I'll explain later! Go!”

“Don’t bother,” said Lois. “I'll go.” She stomped out, slamming the door behind her.

Martha stepped in front of Clark. “What was that all about?”

He looked at his watch. It was almost time to meet Oliver. “I don’t have time to explain, mom. I'll be back.” With that he vanished, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

She sighed. Maybe it was a good idea to get out of Smallville. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with things like this anymore.

The club, it turned out, didn’t have a name. On the official city documents, it was listed simply as “Warehouse 69.” Lex chuckled at the moniker, able to appreciate the humor because he was not just looking at the “official” city documents.

What his diggers had discovered for him was beyond fascinating. Dania Matzán, aka Artemis, had recently opened the unnamed club and begun seducing the young and innocent. That Chloe Sullivan had managed to find it hadn’t surprised Lex. What did astonish him was the fact that she had gotten inside without paying a cent. But that made sense once he found out the rest of the story.

Apparently Artemis made a habit of giving private tours to the young women who managed to find the club, only to have those women suddenly develop gender issues overnight. Witnesses reported seeing the victims’ eyes flash purple when sexually aroused, which indicated that Artemis was controlling them somehow. There were dozens of cases and even more witnesses. Apparently Lana wasn’t the only woman to run off with her own maid of honor.

He would have considered Artemis to be interesting even before learning that she had been in Smallville two years ago during the second meteor shower, but that detail confirmed it. She had the ability to change people’s sexual orientation just by kissing them, an ability she’d gained from the meteors. She would make a most interesting test subject for 33.1.

There was another reason he wanted her, though. She had bewitched his fiancée, and he needed her to tell him how to reverse the effects. All the case studies in front of him had concluded that there was no cure for the meteor-induced lesbianism. But there had to be, and she knew what it was. He was sure of it.

It had been ridiculously easy to kidnap her in the middle of her own club, and even easier to tie her down to a lab table and start the experiments. He would be joining them in a few minutes, just as soon as he finished going over the details of her personal life. His father had always taught him to discover the dirty little secrets of his adversaries. Looking over Artemis’ past, Lex believed he’d hit the jackpot.

He smiled. This was going to be too easy.

Chloe sat in her apartment, waiting for Lana to return. She could hardly contain her excitement.

It surprised her, even now, to realize just how enchanting the other woman was. Not that she hadn’t reached that conclusion objectively before—something had to keep Clark coming back to her, after all—but now she found herself noticing things about Lana that before she’d either overlooked or purposely ignored out of envy. Things like how good she smelled, how smooth her skin was, and the fact that she was a very, very good kisser.

The last observation made Chloe blush slightly. She had been raised Catholic, but she was a rule-breaker at heart. She had to be with Lois as her relative, not to mention using her unique skills to help out her friends. But this was more than her cousin sneaking her a beer during her summer internship or hacking into secure databases to track down a lead. She had never felt this way about anybody before. Not even Clark.

There was something about Lana, something mysterious and exotic, that managed to captivate damn near everyone in this town. As Chloe had learned last night, she was no exception. She chuckled. Apparently she was attracted to enigmas. Clark had held such appeal to her during those years where she didn’t know his secret, but now that everything was out in the open between them, she realized that those feelings were never for him: they were for the mystery that surrounded him.

It was the investigative reporter in her, the part of her that drove her to uncover the story, that had made her so enamored with Clark. But now she had him all figured out, and even though he was still very special to her, she saw him as more of a brother than anything.

No, not a brother. He was her friend. Her very best friend, but nothing more. Not now. Now she had a new mystery to uncover.

With that in mind, Chloe returned her focus to the task at hand. She hovered her mouse over a file marked “CK,” and hit “delete” without even flinching. A window popped up to ask her if she was sure, and she clicked “yes.” She’d never been more sure of anything. It was time to move on.

She heard a soft click at the door, and she looked up from her laptop. Lana entered the apartment carrying a bottle of wine that she’d no doubt taken from the Luthor mansion as a souvenir. Chloe smiled.

“Hey, gorgeous. Is that for me?”

She nodded. “And me. I figured it was time for me to cut loose.”

“What, are you gonna just kill the baby, then?”

“There never was a baby. Lex paid my doctor to fake the pregnancy. I didn’t even know you could do that until I realized that it’s been three months and my stomach hasn’t grown an inch.”

“Synthetic hormone injections could do it,” said Chloe. “They simulate everything but the bulge.”

Lana grinned. “You always were smart. I don’t know why I never realized it before.”

“I do.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Chloe stood up and started walking towards her. “You were jealous of me, just like I was jealous of you.”

“What was there to be jealous of?”

“Oh, you mean besides the brains, the computer skills, and my natural way with words?” They both giggled. “It was the way Clark felt about each of us. I wanted to be the girl of his dreams, while you just wanted to know more about him.”

“He always confided in you more.”

“It’s in the past now,” Chloe dismissed just as she reached the other woman. They kissed. “Let’s celebrate our future together.”

“I have just the ticket,” said Lana, reaching for the wine glasses.

Chloe grabbed her arm. “Don’t,” she said. At Lana’s puzzled stare, she added: “I wanna lick it off you.”

They kissed again. Chloe put an arm on Lana’s back, supporting herself against the counter with the other. She pushed forward suddenly, trapping her lover against the wall. They separated, catching their breath and meeting each other’s purple-eyed gaze. Roughly, brazenly, Chloe assaulted Lana’s lips with her own, extending her tongue in brusque invitation. Lana eagerly accepted.

They broke for air again, and Chloe ran her hands up Lana’s sides, stopping at her chest. She took the other woman in her hands, squeezing, groping and declaring ownership like she never had with anyone. Before, she was always expected to submit. Now she was free to take control. She relished in the task.

Lana groaned as the blonde reporter ran her dexterous fingers over the sensitive nubs through her shirt, resentful of the thin cotton barrier that prevented her from reaching climax. She pounced forward, uniting them again.

It was a struggle of equals. Not quite a battle, since they were united in their goal, but fighting for dominance was part of the game. They tugged on each other’s lips like they would on a rope, each one vying for control. There were no rules, no procedures. They were flying, quite literally, by the seat of their pants.

Though they were united at several points, they had yet to master moving in tandem. Communication was hindered by the fact that their lips were vacuum-sealed, and so they staggered all across the room before finally ending up at the couch. Chloe forced Lana to sit, straddling her and undoing the buttons on her blouse.

Black lace. Under her reporter’s garb, Chloe wore black lace. It made Lana quiver, made her want to see what lay underneath that. But she would have to be patient.

Casting her blouse aside, the blonde not-quite-temptress descended again, planting her tongue like a flag into the top of her conquest. Lana’s hands roamed, seeking out a small clasp that would unlock her deepest desires….

There was a knock at the door.

They froze. Neither one moved. They heard what sounded like a key, and the door opened. In walked….

“Jimmy?”

It took all he had not to faint right there. “Chloe?” His throat was suddenly like flypaper, and the rest of the words got stuck.

Chloe was the first to recover. “Excuse me a minute,” she said to Lana, who nodded. She got up and crossed the room. “Hey, Jimmy,” she said, unabashed.

Jimmy looked like he was one glance of a nipple away from assuming the fetal position. “Chloe, what’s going on?”

“Jimmy, I think we should see other people.”

He froze. No words came. After a moment, he walked out.

Chloe sighed. “That was painful,” she said dismissively, then turned back to Lana. “Now, where were we?”

The stealth approach really sucked sometimes. As useful (and conveniently dramatic) as catching the enemy off guard was, it took a lot of work to sneak up on somebody. One had to focus on remaining unseen and unheard, as well as leaving no signs that they had passed. It was like trying to cross Niagara Falls on a piano wire. One misstep, one alarm, one bullet was all it took to end the whole thing.

But the absolute worst part was the waiting. Boredom was the number one enemy on a mission like this, and the key to avoiding it was to use that time to run over the mission objective until it became inscribed in one’s brain. Still, as scintillating an activity as looking over blueprints was, even that got old after a while.

It also didn’t help when one’s partner was late.

He’d been sitting out here all afternoon, with only his bow and his Blackberry to keep him company. He’d run over the schematics countless times on this hill overlooking the allegedly abandoned warehouse, wondering what exactly Lex had against putting his secret labs in buildings that didn’t look like they were one pigeon dropping away from collapsing under their own weight. But he knew that beneath the façade lay concrete, steel and lead, not to mention guards with guns. His only means of getting in and out of there unscathed was already half an hour late. Utterly ridiculous for someone who could outrun a freight train.

Oliver had just glanced down at his watch when he felt the briefest of gusts. When he looked up, he saw Clark.

“About time you got here. I never have this problem with Bart. But then again he doesn’t try and do everything himself.”

Clark ignored the quip. “Let’s just get started.”

He shook his head. “Change of plans.”

“What?”

“I looked into that thing we talked about earlier, and I tried to set up a meeting with the club owner. I ran into a bit of a snag.”

“You have a Y-chromosome?”

“No, she vanished from her club this afternoon. Literally vanished, like she’d been kidnapped.”

“You think Lex is behind it?”

“I know he is. A van just came through that gate three hours ago, and Lex’s Porsche arrived just before you did. You’re lucky he didn’t see you.”

“How do you know she’s in there? Last I checked I was the one with X-Ray vision.”

“Call it a hunch. Or an educated guess, whatever. All I know is that we need to get in there and observe the interrogation.”

“Why not just shut the whole thing down?”

Oliver smacked his forehead. “It’s that kind of thinking that got you trapped in a room full of meteor rocks last time. There’s something to be said for stealth and observation. This is strictly a recon mission now.”

Clark flinched as he remembered what happened at the Ridge Facility. “There’s another reason you just want to look, isn’t there?”

He nodded. “Lex isn’t stupid, Clark. He’s probably abducted her to try and coax her into reversing the process of whatever affected Lana and Chloe, or at least telling him how.”

“She got Lois too.”

Behind his sunglasses, Oliver shut his eyes. “Damn.”

“So you’re saying that we need to listen in on their conversation?” Oliver nodded. “You know I could just do that from here.”

Clicking on the device that significantly deepened his voice, The Green Arrow replied: “Now where’s the fun in that?”

Clark, like Atlas, shrugged.

Oliver drew his bow, setting his sights on the guard booth. He released the arrow, letting it fly about a hundred yards before crashing through the glass and piercing the security monitor. There was a hiss as an emerald gas was released, and the guard dropped to the floor. He turned to Clark.

“Let’s go.”

And they were off. Oliver took the lead, while Clark perked up his other senses, searching for guards. They reached the bottom of the hill quickly, then hid behind a tree. Oliver produced another arrow.

“What’s that for?” whispered Clark.

“Just watch.”

He let fly, and Clark saw the arrow land in a box near the gate. Oliver pressed a few buttons on his Blackberry, and the gate opened.

“Remote control arrow,” he explained. “Hacks into security, then links back to me, granting me total control. It’s what I used before Victor came along.”

“How long can you keep it open?”

“Depends on what kind of fail-safes they’ve got—uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? What’s wrong?”

Oliver didn’t answer, pressing frantically at the buttons on his Blackberry. “The system’s got a few upgrades. It’s forcing me out. We only have a few seconds before the gate closes.”

“Not a problem,” Clark said before grabbing Ollie and going into superspeed, covering the fifty yards between them and the gate in less than a second. He shifted his perception back to normal just in time to see Oliver grin.

“Thanks, Boy Scout.”

“No problem. Where to now?”

He pointed to the warehouse. “Do your thing.”

Clark nodded, then narrowed his eyes. The layers of the building peeled back like an onion skin, and suddenly he could see everything.

“Where are they?”

“Middle of the building. There’s some air ducts running right above the room that go out to the roof. I can jump us up there and we can sneak in that way.”

Oliver looked at him blankly before grinning. “Better than my plan. Let’s go, Boy Scout.” Clark extended his hand, and he grabbed on. Then he saw his surroundings blur as they traveled up, up, and away.

As they landed on the roof, Ollie turned to him and smiled. “You sure you don’t wanna join the team?”

“I told you, I have my own stuff to take care of.”

He shrugged, deciding that they would discuss that later. “After you,” he said, gesturing to the vent cover. Clark stepped forward and removed it effortlessly, and Oliver whistled.

“Come on,” Clark said before disappearing down the duct.

It was easy to get lost in the power, Lex mused as he exited the observation room and entered the main lab where his current test subject was being held. This feeling of being in control—it was intoxicating. It was something he lusted after; something he pursued relentlessly. These people—these things, he reminded himself; they weren’t fully human—were so powerful on the outside, but in here, he held the power. In here, he was in control.

In here, he was God.

“Comfortable?” he greeted with purposeful irony.

The purple-eyed woman glowered at him, but didn’t so much as squirm in her restraints. “Not particularly.”

“Good.” It was the cold, merciless tone in which he said it that sent shivers down the spines of everyone in the room. Everyone but him.

Through the vent above them, Clark and Oliver watched the interrogation. Oliver looked at Clark sympathetically. The guy had never seen this side of his former friend before. He had.

“Tell me, what is it about the accommodations you don’t like?” Lex continued, and Clark shook with rage. Oliver had to place a hand on his forearm to remind him to stay calm. “Is it the restraints? The HAZMAT suits? The needles? What is it that you like least?”

Artemis and Lex had something in common: neither was willing to show weakness. She wasn’t even trying to free herself, acting as though the lab table was a lounge chair. It annoyed him to see her so at ease. Half the fun was in watching the subject struggle.

“I thought that would be obvious,” she replied with a smirk. “The men.”

The billionaire laughed. “That’s right!” he exclaimed, circling the table. “You run what the Metropolis underworld considers to be the best women-only club in the state. It’s notoriously hard to find, though. According to city documents the club doesn’t even exist. If it had been anyone but Chloe Sullivan who took my fiancée there, I would have been amazed that they even managed to locate the place.”

“Is that why I’m here, Señor Luthor? Because you are unhappy with Miss Lang’s sudden change of heart?”

Lex immediately stopped pacing and slammed his palms down on the table. “I know it was you,” he growled. “I know you were in Smallville two years ago, when the second meteor shower hit. I know that you have the power to make people fall in love.”

“Ah, but you are only partially correct,” she said. “I can only manipulate pheromones. Specifically, I alter which kinds of pheromones trigger attraction in that person. The people emitting those pheromones, not to mention other factors of romantic compatibility, are beyond even my control.”

He stood upright again, placing his hands behind his back. “So what you’re saying is that Chloe and Lana were always attracted to each other?”

“Not sexually before I interfered, no, but there is a definite connection between those two that makes them more than just friends. Almost like sisters, in fact.”

His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer. “How do I reverse it?”

She smirked at him. “You can’t.”

“But you can. I know it.”

Artemis shrugged as best she could given the restraints. “Perhaps I could. It would be news to me. I have never tried to reverse the effects before. They always seem so happy.”

He slammed a fist down on the table, ignoring the pain that came with it. “Tell me how!” he demanded.

“You will never get the answer you are looking for, Señor Luthor. Not every ticket is round-trip.”

Lex grinned, and for a moment her expression wavered. “Oh, but with enough influence, it can be.” He started to pace again. “You see, I know something about you, Dania.” The use of her real first name made her flinch. “I know why you opened that club, why you seduced all those women, and why you’re never in a relationship for longer than two weeks.”

He leaned down close to her ear, and Clark listened in, shuddering when he heard what Lex told her.

“What did he say?” asked Oliver.

“He said, ‘I know why you’re still a virgin.’”

Behind his shades, Oliver’s eyes narrowed into a baneful glare. They both returned their gaze to the room below.

“See, apparently your father left you and your mother when you were very young,” Lex said, continuing to walk around the table. “Your mother went through man after man, only for each of them to leave her, which my psychologists have deduced is the root of your hatred for the male gender.”

“If you never want to see a man again, say ‘I love you. I want to marry you. I want to have your children’—they leave skid marks.”

Lex smiled. “Rita Rudner.”

Artemis inclined her head.

“You’re forgetting, of course, that my reaction was the exact opposite when Lana told me that.”

“That’s because you’re not a man.”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. “Then what am I?”

“A vulture.”

“And how, pray tell, did you arrive at that particular conclusion?”

“You’re bald and you keep circling me, for one thing. You’re also a scavenger, waiting for other businesses to die in the desert to which you’ve banished them and then swooping in to claim the remains.”

His expression turned smug. “As original and insightful as your evaluation of me is, I find your personal history to be much more interesting.” He resumed pacing. “Eventually you revealed to your mother and current stepfather that you were a Lesbian. Your mother, as was typical of her, became distant and started drinking. Her husband was a much more… direct man.” He stopped and looked her in the eye. “I’ve been on the receiving end of some pretty extreme parenting methods, but thankfully I never had to deal with rape.”

Artemis scowled. “You talk about me as though you know what it was like.”

“Oh, but I do. My father declared Machiavelli to be his role model. I’m familiar with fathers who try and… force you to change.”

She just continued to glare at him.

“According to the police reports, the man who tried to rape you never got the chance. You grabbed a butcher knife from the kitchen, and then you made it live up to its name when you castrated him. The doctors were unable to reattach the severed penis because you chopped it into so many pieces.”

She grinned devilishly.

“You were acquitted because your actions were ruled to be in self-defense. But things with your mother were never the same after that, were they? That’s why you decided to leave home.”

“Why are you telling me my own past, Señor Luthor? Why mention it when there’s no one but lab coats around to hear?”

“Because,” he said, leaning down over her. “I want to show you that there’s nothing I can’t discover about you. The truth on how to cancel the effects of your power will come out sooner or later, so I suggest you tell me now and spare yourself all the painful medical experimentation.”

She glared at him for a long moment before she closed her eyes and surrendered. “Alright,” she said. “I'll tell you.”

“See? I knew you could be cooperative.”

“The only way to break the spell,” she whispered slowly, “is the kiss of a man.”

Lex smirked and, if only to make her shiver, ran the back of his hand down her face. She didn’t flinch. “Too bad it’s not that simple with the real thing. You could have been cured long ago.”

She scowled at him. “It’s not a disease, Señor Luthor. You of all people should know love does not play by the rules.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Ask yourself why you are so obsessed with investigating Clark Kent. Examine the reasons you gave yourself for deciding to be his friend, and then ask whether any of them are really true. Ask yourself if Lana Lang is truly the one you want to be with.”

At his wide-eyed expression, she smirked. “You are not the only one who can draw conclusions from people’s pasts.”

Above them, Clark was dumbstruck. Was that why Lex had been so interested in him all those years? Because he was attracted to him? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Lex regained his composure after a moment, turning to one of the doctors. “Run the full battery of tests,” he ordered. “Find out if anything in the male anatomy is sufficient to cancel out the effects of her power. I want to know if she’s lying.” He turned to leave.

Behind him, Artemis simmered. “Why, Señor Luthor?”

He smiled, looking at her over his shoulder. “You called me a fag,” he said before exiting through the door.

“I’m going in,” said Clark, making ready to punch through the vent.

Oliver grabbed his fist. “No,” he said.

“But they’re gonna torture her.” He looked down to where they had already started to drill into her stomach. To her credit, Artemis had yet to scream, or even flinch for that matter.

“Yeah, and she won’t remember any of it come morning. If you rescue her now, she’ll be scarred for life.”

Clark shut his eyes. “I can’t let him do this.”

“And we’ll be back later to shut him down. This was just a recon mission.”

“But—”

“Clark, listen to me. We have more important things to worry about right now. Lex is going after Lana, and my guess is he’s got his sights set on Watchtower as well. If he gets to them before we do….”

He didn’t even want to consider the implications of that. “Alright,” he said. “But we’re coming right back here.”

Oliver nodded. “Let’s go,” he said, and they started back the way they came.

Sapphic, Act One

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:38:15 GMT

Here's Act One. Setting up the conflicts....

Clark was lying on the couch, watching Shelby roll back and forth in one spot on the living room floor, when the phone rang. There was a sudden explosion of air, and the golden retriever immediately stopped his rolling and barked in surprise as he saw Clark on the other side of the room, picking up the phone from the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey, have you seen Chloe?”

“Jimmy? She should be with you at the Planet.”

“That’s why I’m calling. She didn’t show up today. And you know Chloe, she’s addicted to this place. I figured if anything could be more important to her than showing up to the DP, it’d be you.”

“I told you, Jimmy, we’re just friends.”

“Keep telling yourself that, CK. I see how she looks at you.”

“Chloe might have had a crush on me for years, but she loves you Jimmy.”

“I'll believe it when I see her look at me like that. Until then I kinda feel like you two are the couple and I’m the third wheel.”

“We’re just really good friends. You’re the one she’s sleeping with.”

“Whoa! Who told you that?”

“Javier. He saw the whipped cream, told me, and we kinda put two and two together. I’m glad you’re able to make Chloe happy. Really, I am.”

There was a pause on the other end. Finally Jimmy replied: “That means a lot, CK. You really are all right.”

“I'll let you know if I see her. Bye.”

“Bye.”

He hung up the phone, and was about to superspeed back to the couch (he loved messing with Shelby) when it rang again. He glared at it, weighing his options. If he melted it with heat vision, he could go back to relaxing on the couch, but his mother would have a fit. Or he could just answer it.

The phone continued to ring.

Grumbling, he picked it up. “Hello?”

“Clark.”

His eyes widened. “Oliver! What’s going on?”

“Lex. He’s started a new phase of 33.1. He’s no longer content with just collecting people with abilities from the local sanitariums.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s abducting them, running tests overnight, and then depositing them back at home with no memory of what happened.”

“How do you know this?”

“Bart was at Smallville Lanes last night, because he heard Chloe was going to be holding Lana’s bachelorette party there.” Clark rolled his eyes, and he could just see Ollie doing the same on his end. “She never showed up. He stepped out into a side-alley to see if they might be there, and he saw them abduct one of the employees. He followed them to a secret lab on the other side of town. Lex was there in person.”

“Can you prove it?”

“I’ve got the pictures Bart took in my hands right now. I'll be in Metropolis this afternoon.”

Even though he knew Oliver couldn’t see it, Clark nodded. “Call me as soon as you get there. We’ll meet and discuss our options.”

“Whoa, who said you were in charge of the team? Of course,” he added, and Clark could just imagine the smirk, “you can still join.”

“I’ve still got some of my own stuff to take care of. Think of me as freelance for now.”

“Alright. See you then.”

“Bye.”

He hung up the phone, going over the two conversations in his head. Chloe was missing, and Oliver had proof that Lex was kidnapping meteor freaks. His eyes grew wide as he connected the dots. Oh God, what if…?

But Chloe was normal! She investigated the meteor mutants; she wasn’t one of them! Then again, she had been exposed to more Kryptonite than just about anyone else in Smallville as a result of said investigations. As much as he would have liked to deny it, he had to face the possibility that Chloe had been mutated by the meteors (he refused to think of her as a freak, and not just because he had no room to talk about unusual powers), and that Lex knew it, and had taken her for it.

“If he and his scientists stuck one needle into her….” He made a show of crushing the nearest object, an empty soda can, into a chunk of metal the size of a small coin. Shelby barked in support.

‘Wait a minute,’ he thought. Oliver had said something else. He said that Lex was returning the people to their homes, with no memory of what happened. As relieved as he was that the victims—which may or may not include Chloe—probably wouldn’t remember any of the horrific details, he got the feeling that Lex only wiped the slate clean so that they would never be able to prove it was him.

Without even heading upstairs to change, he set off towards The Talon at full speed.

‘Please be here, please be here, oh PLEASE be here….’ He repeated it in his head until the words just seemed to blur together before they disappeared entirely and were replaced by a deep, dark feeling of dread. Without even knocking, he forced open the door to the apartment.

What he saw almost made him wish Chloe had been abducted.

The sight of Chloe on the couch relieved one fear, but raised a host of others as he saw that she was not alone. Not only that, but she and the stranger next to her were currently engaged in kissing and extremely heavy petting. He had to force his jaw shut.

‘Oh, Jimmy’s not gonna like this.’

Once he found the clarity of mind to move again, he stepped closer to the pair, circling around to see what visage lay beyond Chloe’s blonde bob. The answer made his heart skip a beat. There, on the couch, making out with Chloe Sullivan, was….

“Lana?”

The two separated, and as they looked at him, surprised, he could swear that he saw their eyes flash briefly purple. “Oh, hey Clark,” Chloe greeted as though nothing was wrong.

Even with his amazingly powerful alien brain, he was unable to comprehend how the two most important women in his life—both of whom, as far as he knew, were in love with him—were making out with each other. Women were a complete mystery, even to an enigma like him.

“What… how… why…?” He struggled to find the appropriate words to express his combined feeling of outrage at the betrayal, relief at the fact that Chloe was safe, and utter bewilderment as to why these two had suddenly decided to swear off men after a single Girls’ Night Out.

“Clark, are you feeling okay?” asked Lana.

“No I’m NOT OKAY!” he shouted, surprising even himself with his anger. “How would you feel if you saw me and Oliver making out?!”

“Confused, but not entirely surprised,” Chloe answered. “Why?"

“What do you…? Nevermind! Chloe, do you remember anything from last night?”

“I remember coming back here and making out with Lana all night and this morning, why?”

He was about to tell her why he was so concerned when he remembered that Lana was here too. “Do you think we could talk? Alone?”

Chloe turned to Lana. “Is that alright with you?”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “I need to go break off the engagement with Lex anyway. Suddenly I’m no longer attracted to the father of my child.” She gave Chloe another kiss, and Clark nearly fell over. “But I’m sure you’ll make a great parent.”

“Alright. See you later.” Her eyes were glued to Lana’s ass as the raven-haired beauty left the room, and she bit her bottom lip. After the door closed, she turned back to Clark. “So what’s up?”

Unable to think of anything else to say, he replied: “Jimmy’s looking for you.”

Her eyes studied the ceiling as she appeared to ponder something. “Oh, right, Jimmy. Do you mind running me over to the DP so I can break up with him? I don’t wanna waste gas.”

Clark couldn’t believe she’d just said that. He gripped her by the shoulders. “Chloe, do you hear what you’re saying?! What’s gotten into you?”

“Okay, first of all, ow.”

It suddenly occurred to him that he was holding on to her just a little too tightly. He let go. “Sorry.”

“Eh, my fault for scaring you like that. I know how you are with surprises.”

“This is more than just a surprise! You’re lucky it’s physically impossible for me to have a heart attack!”

“Please, it’ll be old news in about a week.” She grinned. “You know, all this time I thought I was jealous of Lana. But now I realize that you were the one getting in the way of me being with the person I love.”

“Chloe, this isn’t you talking! How could you be in love with Lana?”

“I figured you of all people would understand just how… enchanting she can be.” She sighed wistfully and sank further into the couch, resting her arms on the back. “I had no idea she was such a good kisser. I totally get why you were so obsessed with her all those years.”

“What happened, Chloe? Why are you acting like this?”

“Because I finally realized the truth!” she exclaimed, standing up and spinning with glee. “I was never in love with you. I just wanted you to get over your Lana crush so that I could have her. And now I do.”

Clark decided to drop it for now. He would never get a straight answer out of her as long as she was under the influence of whatever spell had been cast on her—especially when said spell made her desire women. He’d learned that lesson often enough in the past.

“Alright, I can get used to this,” he lied. “Just… for God’s sake, Chloe, quit spinning! You’re gonna make yourself dizzy!” He stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders again, softer this time.

She giggled whimsically, which he found so completely un-Chloe-like that he was convinced she’d been hypnotized or something. He led her back to the couch.

“Whoa, hey, enough with the manhandling. Some of us don’t have bones of steel.”

He let go. “Chloe, Oliver called me.”

She sobered up. “And?”

“And he says Lex is abducting people for 33.1. He’s not just using Belle-Reeve anymore.”

“My God, that’s awful.”

“That’s why I’m here. When Jimmy called and said you didn’t show up at the Planet this morning, I thought….” He looked down, not wanting to finish that sentence.

She touched his shoulder. “Hey, I was here all night. I’ve had enough memory losses before to know when I’m missing major portions of my life. Lana and I got back from the club around three, and we fooled around for a while before falling asleep. Then we woke up and started again, and that’s what we were doing when you walked in.”

“When you say you ‘fooled around,’ you don’t mean…?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, we didn’t have sex. Not that it isn’t a definite possibility in the future.” She grinned madly as she considered the possibilities, and Clark saw her eyes flash purple again. That confirmed it. She was definitely under some sort of spell.

“What club did you go to?”

“I don’t really remember the name. Although I don’t think I'll ever forget the woman who owns it. Have you ever seen The Matrix: Reloaded?”

He nodded. “We watched it together when it came out.”

“Do you remember the Merovingian’s wife?”

Did he remember? Even if he hadn’t possessed a photographic memory, there was no way he would forget that! He’d never mentioned that to Chloe before, however, because it was hard enough on her to be jealous of Lana. Somehow, though, he didn’t think that was an issue at the moment.

“A little bit.”

“That’s what she looks like, Clark. She calls herself Artemis.”

“The Greek goddess of the Hunt?”

“Yeah. She’s Spanish, though. Her real name’s Dania Matzán.”

Clark stored that information away for later. His eyes narrowed as he reviewed the facts and arrived at a conclusion. “Is she the one who did this to you?”

Chloe frowned. “Why do you have to look at it like that, Clark? Why can’t you just accept that I’m happy and move on?!”

“Because you’re not acting like yourself.”

“Or maybe I finally am!” She stood up, and even though she was shorter than he was, as long as he was sitting she was able to tower over him. “Maybe I finally realized who the real me is! I’m in love with Lana, Clark! You threw away your chance with her, so let me have mine!”

“Chloe….”

“Shut up! I already know what you’re going to say! You’re gonna try and tell me that you’re only trying to help, that you’re concerned about me as a friend, but that’s never it, is it, Clark?! Especially not when Lana’s involved! You’re jealous!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are! Admit it!”

“Chloe, listen to yourself! Calm down!”

“NO!” she screamed at him, and for the first time in his life Clark was actually afraid of his best friend. Not of what she could do to him, but of the fact that she if she didn’t want to be helped, there was no way he could save her. He’d tried it before. The only way to help to her when she was like this was to give her space and work on this behind her back.

Still, he decided to give it one last shot: “Listen to me, Chloe. I’m not trying to steal Lana away from you. Believe me, I’d rather have her with you than with Lex. But something’s seriously wrong here. You’re not acting like yourself.”

“You already said that!”

He sighed. There was no getting through to her.

“Get out, Clark!” She pointed to the door.

“Chloe….”

“Get OUT!”

It was what he wanted to do anyway. He took one last look at her eyes, searching them for any sign that the Chloe he knew, the Chloe who had fallen in love with him, was still there. Then he vanished before she could tell him to leave a third time.

Lex was sitting in his library. Attached to his ear was a headset, which he was using to hold a conversation. A very private one at that, since the call went through several encryptions and bounced off of numerous satellites (all of which he owned), before reaching the person on the other end. It would take no less than the genius of Milton Fine to hack, trace, or tap the call. Or maybe Chloe Sullivan, if she was determined. Still, by the time anyone got through, the conversation would be over.

“Tell Tobias that we’re still unable to find a donor,” he said. “Corneas are in such short supply, after all. If he ever wants to see again, he’ll continue working for us.”

He listened to the voice on the other end before speaking again. “Believe me, doctor, I have experience with carrots on a stick. You’ve met my father. As long as we continue to promise him help, it won’t matter if he gets it or not. After all, no one else is offering.”

The doctor said something else, and he simply smiled. “Yes, I know Bart Allen was at the lab last night. I’ve lived with the paparazzi long enough to know when my picture is being taken. He’ll go to the Green Arrow, and we’ll have a few surprises waiting for him and his team when they try to break in. I assure you this won’t end up like the Ridge Facility.”

After listening to a few more words from the other caller, he replied: “Alright, then. Goodbye, doctor.” With that, he removed the earpiece.

His pace quickened as he saw his fiancée enter through the main doors. He smiled.

“How was the bachelorette party, Lana?”

He didn’t know why her Cheshire grin made him uneasy, especially when few things did. “Life-changing,” she replied.

“Good news: the wedding planner called and we’re all set to go in a week.”

“Tell them to cancel.”

Lex’s smile vanished. “What?”

“I’m not going through with the wedding, Lex.” She held up her engagement ring, then hurled it at him. He barely managed not to fall out of his chair as he caught it.

He looked up at her, outraged and bewildered. “And why not?”

“I realized I'm in love with someone else.” Her voice hadn’t lost its smug, carefree tone that was so unlike Lana it made him wonder if she’d been taking drugs.

His eyes narrowed. “Clark?”

Lana threw her head back and cackled so loudly that for a moment he thought Isobel had made a return. After a few moments her face sobered and she answered: “No, Lex. It’s not Clark.”

“Then who is it?”

“Why should I tell you? So you can have them investigated? If you aren’t already.”

“So I know this person?”

She grinned devilishly. “You know them very, very well. So does your father.”

“Are you sure it’s not Clark?”

“Please, I’m over the farmboy. I’ve met someone who makes me feel like no one else can.”

Lex rocketed to his feet and pounded on his desk. “Who is it?!”

“I already said I’m not telling you.”

He stood there, tightening his hands until tiny streams of blood began to leak from his palms. He took a deep breath before asking: “What about the baby?”

“What about it? It’s the only reason I’ve stayed with you this long. And honestly, I’m not even sure there is a baby. Don't you find it odd that after three months, my figure is still the same?”

“Lana, you saw the ultrasound….”

“How do I know that was my baby I was seeing? It could have been a tape. Now I don’t know how you convinced me I was pregnant, but so far all I’ve had is morning sickness and hot flashes, and my stomach’s not getting any bigger.”

“You’re only in your first trimester. The baby could be slow developing.”

“That’s not what the doctor said when we saw him. And I think he would have mentioned something like that. Unless,” she threw him a wicked smirk, indicating to him that she’d figured it out, “he’s in on it too. Is he the one who’s been making me think I’m pregnant?”

“Lana, I swear to you, I would never try and deceive you like that.”

“Why not? You always were a lying bastard and you always will be.” Throwing her hands up, she wondered aloud: “What is it with me and falling in love with people who keep secrets?” She turned to leave.

“Lana….”

She peered over her shoulder and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t worry, Lex. If for once in your life you’re telling the truth and there actually is a child, you won’t have to concern yourself with it. I won’t even make you pay child support.” With that, she walked out.

Lex stood there, trembling with a combined feeling of outrage, heartbreak, and an overpowering desire for revenge that replaced his blood with lava.

He walked over to the Scotch table, pouring himself a glass and downing half of it in one gulp. Then, just like he’d done the night he lost the State Senate election, the first time he’d confessed to Lana that he truly loved her, he let loose a savage roar and hurled it into the fireplace. The sudden surge of flames matched the white-hot flash of rage that shuddered through him as he went over what just happened.

She was lying. It was Clark. She’d kissed him two weeks earlier, when his former friend crashed the rehearsal dinner and kidnapped her. She was still in love with him.

And how had she found out about the baby? When he’d paid Dr. Langston to inject Lana with synthetic hormones, he had been assured that it would simulate every aspect of pregnancy. Except for the abdominal bulge, apparently! He’d planned on taking her off the hormones as soon as they were married anyway, so that it would simply appear like a miscarriage and he wouldn’t have to worry about that part. But Lana had figured it out early. How?

He sighed as he realized why she’d never brought it up before: she had loved him. Love made you blind, and even though she’d probably noticed all that stuff earlier, she never mentioned it because she wanted so badly not to be alone. Now she’d gone back to Clark, which meant she wasn’t willing to let herself be blinded anymore. She’d opened her eyes and figured out the truth on her own. She always was smart. Her cunning had been one of the main reasons he fell in love with her.

Growling like an animal, Lex grabbed the keys to the Porsche off his desk and stormed out of the library, intent on paying a visit to a certain farm he’d been ignoring as of late.

Clark arrived home to find Lois’ car in the driveway. He remembered that she had been with Lana and Chloe last night. Maybe she knew what happened.

He entered the farm house and saw her sitting on the couch, struggling valiantly to keep Shelby at bay. Her efforts were in vain, however. She sneezed.

“Smallville!” She stood up and walked over to him. “There you are! Where were you?”

“I was out running.” It wasn’t a total lie. He just didn’t mention how fast he’d been running or what his destination was.

“For how long, two minutes? You’re not even sweating.”

‘Actually, two minutes is overestimating things.’ He kept the thought to himself. “It’s not like it’s hot outside.”

“True, but exercise is supposed to get your juices flowing.” He arched his eyebrows and she blanched at the accidental double entendre. “Where did you go?”

“The Talon.”

“That’s all the way in town! You should be wetter than a swimming pool by now.”

“I just don’t sweat that much. Is that really so unusual?”

“For someone as weird as you, not really. We have more important things to discuss, as I’m sure you know if you were where you say you were.”

He nodded. “What happened last night?”

“I don’t know!” She threw her hands in the air. “All I know is that I took Lana to the dance floor while Chloe went off with that Artemis chick for a private tour of the club, and when she came back, it was goodbye Mel Gibson, hello K.D. Lang!”

“What?”

“They were playing I Wish I was a Lesbian,” Lois explained. “Am I the only one who knows that song?”

“Yes.”

She growled. “Not helping, Smallville.”

“Sorry. Do you think Artemis might have done something to the two of them?”

“Well as far as I know she only got Chloe. But what I wanna know is why did Lana start kissing her back?”

“Maybe the kiss transferred the effects, like you did to me on Valentines Day.”

They both shuddered. “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again. And how come you remember that and I don’t?” Before he could answer, she held up her hand. “You know what, on second thought, nevermind. If you tell me how you managed to recall all the mushy details there’s a chance I might end up remembering it too. I’d rather stay blissful in my ignorance.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t even needed to dodge a bullet, because she’d pocketed the gun. “So what do we do now?”

“I’m gonna go back to the club, see if I can’t get some answers out of this Artemis chick.”

He shook his head. “It might be dangerous. Let me go.”

Lois smirked. “Uh, excuse me, Smallville, but last I checked, the club was women only. Now unless you’re a die-hard fan of Some Like it Hot and you wanna live out one of your fantasies, I’m thinking that I’m the one with the better chances of getting in.”

Clark sighed. “Alright. I'll call Jimmy and ask him to come to Smallville so we can explain the whole thing to him.”

“You do that. I'll come back here when I’m done. Hopefully your mom will be back from Metropolis by then so I won’t have to spend the whole time talking to you.”

“She should get back in a couple hours. You be careful.”

Her smirk did not waver. “I always am.” She punched him on the shoulder, and he moved with the blow so she wouldn’t hurt herself.

Lois shook her head, amused. “You’ve really gotta stop flinching, Smallville. One of these days I’m gonna punch you right in the gut.”

‘And you’ll probably break every bone in your arm unless I double over,’ he thought smugly, but kept it to himself. “Goodbye, Lois.”

“Later.” She exited out through the back door.

Chuckling to himself, he picked up the phone and dialed. It rang once before Jimmy answered. It was like he’d been sitting by the phone. “Did you find Chloe?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Caller ID, CK. Not all of us are Amish.”

“We have electricity!” he retorted before realizing that he should probably answer Jimmy’s question before getting into such a frivolous argument. “Yeah, I found her. You’d better come over here as soon as you can.”

He could hear Jimmy’s heart speed up as the boy panicked. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, but there’s something wrong with the way she’s been acting. I think you’d better come to the farm first so I can explain it to you.”

“Nah, I'll just go to The Talon and see for myself. Later, CK.”

“Wait! Jimmy—” He heard a dial tone and sighed. That was not going to end well, he was sure of it.

Clark could hear a car pulling up outside. It sounded suspiciously like….

“CLARK!”

It was Lex. ‘What’s he doing here?’ he wondered.

The back door flew open and Lex thundered inside. “Where’s Lana?!” he demanded.

“What makes you think she’s here?” Clark figured he’d be at The Talon right now, evicting Chloe. Unless…. “What happened, Lex?”

“You’re not gonna take her away from me!” the billionaire roared. “She’s marrying me, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“Lex, she’s not here.”

“THEN WHERE IS SHE?!”

“Lex, calm down.”

“I will not calm down! TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!”

Clark sighed. He hated to betray Chloe like this, but he’d rather not have Lex accusing him of stealing Lana when that was the last thing on his mind. “She’s at The Talon.”

“Oh, well isn’t that just perfectly ironic? Is she gonna clear the registers out like the last time she tried to run away?!”

Run away? “Lex, what are you…?”

“I know she’s still in love with you, Clark! She wouldn’t tell me who it was but I know it’s you! I won’t let you take her away from me!”

“Lex, if Lana and I were going to run away together do you honestly think I’d still be here?”

That shut him up. He took a deep breath before replying: “Then what the hell is going on?”

“It’s Chloe.”

“What’s your reporter friend have to do with this, Clark?”

“That’s who Lana’s leaving you for. Chloe.”

Lex blinked. Then he blinked again. He stood there for several moments before he burst out laughing. “You almost had me going there, Clark!” he chortled, slapping his knee. “You almost had me convinced! What’s really going on?”

“I’m serious. Something’s not right with the way they’ve been acting lately. I think something happened to them at the club last night.”

He stopped laughing. “What club?”

“I don’t know the name of it. Chloe said it’s owned by a woman who calls herself Artemis. Lois went back there to check it out.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I think she did something to Chloe that made her attracted to Lana. When she kissed her, the effects were transferred and they both fell in love.”

Lex started to pace. After a few moments, he said: “I'll look into it. You’d better be telling the truth, for your sake.”

“Lex, let me help you.”

“I! DON’T! NEED! YOUR! HELP!” he bellowed, driving the words into him like nine-inch nails. Clark took a step back. “We each have too much of our own agenda to work even borderline effectively as a team, and you know that. I'll figure this out on my own.”

“Lex….”

He spun around and glared at Clark with an expression of pure rage. “What?!”

“Be careful.”

Not having expected the sentiment, the billionaire smirked. “You too, Clark.” With that, he left.

Sapphic

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:36:08 GMT

This one is massive. I wanted to write a story that stuck to the show's format pretty closely, and this is the result. The completed story is 25,664 words. Unfortunately, LJ has a page limit, which means I'll have to post this in sections. The teaser is below.

Some warnings and general comments before I dive into the storytelling:

First of all, this contains femslash. That is, girls who are attracted to (and make out with) other girls. It's pretty understated, and it's not even permanent, but having written it in my last fandom (which was for a show that aired on Disney Channel, no less) I know it bothers some people. So if you're not comfortable with it, I suggest you don't click the link. But if you've ever imagined Chloe and Lana making out, this is the story for you.

Oh, and for those curious about the timeline, this takes place during season six, around the same time as Freak. However, in this version of the episode, they don't go to the bowling alley....

Enjoy.

A heavy tempo pounded through the walls and windows of the club, and for what seemed like the millionth time that night, Lana felt her stomach tie itself in a knot.

“I don’t know about this, guys,” she said to Lois and Chloe, who were practically dragging her by the arms. “Couldn’t we have gone to a bowling alley instead?”

“Lana, this isn’t just about your bachelorette party,” said Chloe. “It’s about forgetting all the men in our lives for one night. This is the best women-only club in Metropolis. Last I checked, Smallville Lanes was co-ed.”

“I dunno, I think we might wanna consider listening to her,” Lois opined, though she maintained her death grip on Lana’s arm. “I’ve heard rumors about this place. Kinky ones.”

The other two arched their eyebrows in astonishment, but to her credit, Lois didn’t blush. “What? I told you, I’m over Oliver. And I have enough girl power. I don’t need a retreat from men any more than she does.”

“Yes you do, especially since not two weeks ago you were lovesick over Clark.” Chloe shivered. Just mentioning that incident made her spine freeze.

“I’m telling you, there was something in that lipstick,” Lois insisted. “I don’t even remember anything from that night.”

“I do,” said Lana, and they both tugged a little harder. “Was that why Clark was acting so strange? Did the lipstick affect him somehow?”

‘More than you can imagine,’ Chloe thought, but kept the comment to herself. Instead she replied: “You’re forgetting why we’re here, Lana. Let’s not talk about Clark.”

Lana resigned herself to her fate. “Okay.”

Seeking refuge from her nervous thoughts, Lana decided to focus on what they’d each worn that evening. The details of Lois and Chloe’s dresses had been on her periphery up to this point, but now she drank in the beauty of her companions as a means of distracting herself. Lois had gone with a Little Black Dress, whose hem was so short that she was glad they weren’t going to be around any guys, or else they might have to fight off gropers with a stick. Not that Lois couldn’t handle that task, but Lana got the sense that she’d dressed this way specifically because she wasn’t counting on being ogled. She’d worn her hair down, and had on enough make-up to where she could have been mistaken for a street walker had she not also been in the company of two other women, heading into a club populated exclusively by females.

Chloe, as was her style, had gone with something a little more modest than her cousin: a deep scarlet cocktail dress that suggested curves, but did not flaunt them. The only flashes of skin were her bare arms and low-cut neckline, as well as the angled hem that exposed her right leg up to the knee. Jewelry adorned her figure, from jade bracelets on her wrists to the emerald choker she wore around her neck, as well as the matching earrings. She’d gotten the set from Lois, who in turn had received them as a gift from Oliver before they split. She had made it a point of mentioning earlier that they were most definitely not made out of meteor rocks, though Lana couldn’t figure out why she’d thought to say that. Maybe because they both knew that wherever the meteors went, weirdness followed. She realized now that she had been staring uneasily at the green stones, and that Chloe had been reassuring her.

For her part, Lana had chosen a slink evening gown, black in color, which went down to her ankles and clung to her supple young body like the reincarnation of a teenage boy. She shuddered briefly as she considered that such a thing was actually possible in Smallville, which made her glad they had chosen to go to Metropolis for her bachelorette party instead. Her hair, like Lois’, was worn down, leaving Chloe as the only one who had put it up for the evening. Around her neck, she wore something that she hadn’t in years, but that still felt familiar as it pressed up against her breastbone. It was the necklace she’d given to Whitney for safe-keeping all those years ago, which was now bleached clear and looked like a diamond.

She didn’t know why Clark had kept it for so long. When she’d found it in his room last week, she had been shocked, not only at its loss of color, but at the realization that Clark was still holding on to things that reminded him of her. Things like the picture in his desk. Then again, since said picture wasn’t proudly displayed and the necklace had been tucked away in a box, was he really still obsessed with her? Or was it just symbolic of his inability to let her go despite all his insistences that a relationship between the two of them would never work?

Lana shook her head to clear it of all things Clark. Chloe was right: she did need to escape from men for one night.

They stepped confidently up to the doors of the club, where they were halted by the stout—and if one were to ask Lois, not-so-slightly butch—bouncer with spiky blonde hair that she’d frosted, giving it a bone-like color. Lana gulped.

“Names?” she grunted.

“Chloe Sullivan.” She pointed to the other two. “This is Lois Lane and Lana Lang.”

She glanced over the clipboard in her hands. “Not on the list.”

“What? I made reservations. There must be some mistake.”

“No mistakes. This isn’t a restaurant, sweet-pea. Reservations can be cancelled to make room for… wealthier patrons.”

“Wealthier?” She hated pulling this card, but desperate times…. “Are you aware that Ms. Lang here is set to marry Lex Luthor in less than a week?”

The bouncer smirked. When she replied, she sounded like she’d eaten gravel for lunch. “Rich men have no power here. Maybe she should’ve stuck with Jason Teague. At least Genevieve had pull.”

“And both of them have been dead for almost two years,” Lois snapped before Lana could reply. “Though I do applaud you on doing your homework.”

“I only know what I read in the papers. Anyway, if you want in, it’s gonna cost ya.”

Lois didn’t flinch. “How much?”

Before the bouncer could respond, a voice said from behind her: “Let them in, Moira.”

The stocky woman snarled something under her breath, before stepping aside and allowing them in. Lois, unable to resist the temptation, stuck out her tongue. Moira scowled.

“Let me apologize for that,” the tall, slender, dark-haired woman said as she greeted them. “Moira does not know the difference between a bribe and a tip.”

“Well thank you,” said Chloe. “And you are?”

“Dania Matzán,” she introduced herself. “But you can call me Artemis. This is my club.”

“Spanish name, Greek moniker. Not a mix I was expecting.”

“I’m cultured. How about I show you around?”

Chloe glanced at Lois, who waved her off. “Have fun. I'll show Lana the dance floor.”

Artemis grinned. “I was not expecting to see you here, Miss Lane. Not after The Inquisitor received a rather large bill to repair our bathroom window.”

“No notepad, I swear.” Lois threw her hands up, and for a moment Lana eyed the door. “My mission is strictly non press-related. I’m just here to make sure Lana has a great time before she sells her soul to the Devil.”

“Lex is not that bad,” the dark-haired bride-to-be insisted.

“Yeah, and I’m Gene Hackman. Let’s just dance.”

After they disappeared into the crowd, Chloe took a moment to study Artemis’ features a bit more. She clearly hailed from Spain, as her skin was much too light for her to be from South America. Her features reminded Chloe somewhat of Monica Bellucci, though she wasn’t an exact match. Her eyes were purple, for one thing. Must have been contacts, or the lighting. Still, staring into those royal irises, she found herself flooded with a warmth that was usually only elicited by Clark. It both excited and confused her.

Struggling to catch her breath, she finally managed to stammer: “S-so, about the tour?”

Artemis smiled. “Follow me.”

“Are you sure you wanna stay here?”

Lois nodded. “Chloe would kill us both if we ditched her. Besides, she’s not completely wrong about you needing to loosen up and forget about all the men in your life.” She paused, inclining her head towards the speakers. “Though I think I’d like this place better if they didn’t play Loudon Wainwright.”

“Who?”

“Nevermind. Anyway, I—whoa!”

“What is it?” Lana followed Lois’ gaze and saw two women engaged in… she didn’t want to finish that thought. Both of them quickly averted their gaze.

“Okay, I’m pretty open-minded for an army brat, but there are some things you just do not do in public!”

Lana just shuddered. “We should definitely go. Now.”

‘Wow, Chlo was right; she is kind of a bigot.’ Lois decided—for once—to keep the thought to herself. “Nah, let’s just move closer to the bar. If we left now, Chloe’d have to explain to Jimmy why she’s back so early and you know how bad she is at keeping secrets so she’d just tell him the truth and he’d want pictures and then she’d slap him and they’d break up and then she’d be all mopey and depressed and please stop staring into space or I swear I'll just keep talking until I….”

“Alright!” Lana shouted, and Lois caught her breath. “Let’s go to the bar. But I’m not drinking.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, I’m underage, and second, as Clark made so humiliatingly public when the two of you stormed our engagement party, I’m pregnant.”

It was odd for Lana to be so direct. But then Lois tended to annoy everybody to the point where they started talking like that. It was her special talent.

“Okay, I'll just get a beer for myself, then.”

They were about to escape the dance floor when they saw Chloe moving towards them. Lois noticed something amiss in the way her hips sashayed as she walked, the way she kept staring at Lana, and the fact that her eyes were… purple? Probably just the lighting, she decided.

“Hey, Chlo, we were just about to go to the—”

She stopped talking.

Short of a gag, there were very few things that could shut Lois Lane up. This was one of them.

Chloe, who had been into guys since before she hit puberty, who had obsessed over Clark Kent for years before she started dating Jimmy, and who was basically the straightest girl she knew, had just walked right up to Lana Lang, and kissed her.

On the lips.

There was more. After putting up an initial resistance, Lana began to return the kiss, and soon they were all but imitating the couple they’d seen earlier. Lois gaped.

She quickly found her voice again, and used it to express the first coherent thought that popped into her head once she recovered from the shock:

“Oh, this is just so many levels of wrong.”

Conqueror, Chapter One: All in the Family

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:22:13 GMT

Okay, this is a long one. My plans for it are epic, but regrettably I haven't updated it in quite a while. So here's the first chapter, which, for those curious, weighs in at exactly 8,600 words. I'm verbose. Now on with the show.

It was intoxicating.

That was the only word he could think of to describe the power he felt at that moment. A feeling of invulnerable omnipotence flooded his veins like the ultimate drug, making his confidence soar just like his body.

He was flying. Not in the free-as-a-bird sense either. He felt more like an Angel of Death. Destruction followed the path outlined by his vision, and as he shot over the landscape, appearing only as a long black streak against the pumpkin-colored sky, people swore they’d seen a demon.

The most ironic part was that if he hadn’t been blatantly defying the law of gravity or leaving twin trails of fire on the ground below him, he would have appeared perfectly human. He had walked among them for so many years, and now he was soaring above the planet he no longer needed to fulfill his petty wants and needs. His desires and his emotions held no value for him anymore. The ways of this planet were, quite literally, beneath him. They were not required to fulfill his destiny.

But even though his face remained impassive and he did not respond to the screams of the people below, it was impossible to quell the lust for power swelling within him, trying to distract him from his purpose. But he stayed true to his course, and even though he would have liked to decimate everything in sight, he realized that taking time out for indiscriminate carnage would only slow him down.

Besides, there was always time to terrorize the populace later, once his immediate task had been completed. That would be fun. Thoughts that would have horrified him at one time were now the ones he relished most, and the barest hint of a smirk graced his stony features as he thought of what he could do. The sky was not a limit to him; it was only another barrier to be broken.

When the inferno had grown strong enough to spread on its own, he quenched the fires within his eyes, raising them up and in the direction of his goal. It was a big, white house. The slight arching of his eyebrows was his equivalent of a devilish grin.

He smashed through the centuries-old window to the office that had accommodated some of the most important men in the history of this country and borne witness to countless of their most critical hours. But now it had been turned into a den of thieves, and he was here to rectify that—at any cost.

Once they’d gotten over the shock of the intruder quite literally blasting his way into the Oval Office, the half-dozen suited men in the room all drew their pistols and began firing. He smirked as the bullets bounced off his chest, then disappeared and reappeared again as each of the men mysteriously found themselves the unfortunate victims of supersonic defenestration.

Only one man was left standing. He wore a white suit, which brought to mind the words of someone who had once warned him about trusting white knights, who did not slay dragons, but rather trained them for their own diabolical purposes. This man had loosed several dragons on the country for countless years, and yet he’d been chosen to represent the interests of the people as a whole. What a farce.

He was the only human he’d encountered thus far who didn’t seem to be afraid. A smile graced his lips as he discovered with satisfaction that he had been right all along.

“I always knew you weren’t human, Clark,” he said smugly, his eyes filled with possibilities.

In an instant he was holding the man by the throat. “Clark Kent is dead,” he said impassively. “My name is Kal-El.”

He squeezed, and in less than a second the man’s body went limp as the last of whatever had been left of his soul was banished to Hell for eternity. He dropped him without ceremony and turned to leave, only pausing long enough to say one last thing:

“And this is my destiny.”
--

“No!”

Clark sat up and discovered what was meant by the term “cold sweat.” Normally he found it impossible to convince a drop of moisture to leave his pores unless it was especially hot outside or he was exposed to Kryptonite, but apparently fear had that effect on him as well.

Peeling off his shirt, he rubbed his face and sighed. That was the third time this week. It was always the same dream. His photographic memory allowed him to recall every detail of his dreams, though he’d yet to achieve lucidity aside from that one time Sara Conroy had called out to him in his dreams and forced him to remain asleep. How was she doing, by the way? He’d have to have Chloe look into that.

It didn’t help that strangling Lex had actually been pretty high on the list of things he’d like to do lately, though it had more to do with the fact that the bald billionaire was dating Lana than the re-emergence of his Kal-El persona. Clark sincerely hoped he didn’t turn into a brainless drone again; although flying had been cool, there was just something so… inhuman about the way that side of him acted that made him extremely uneasy.

‘Of course that would be because I’m not human,’ he thought. Still, he had been raised by humans, and therefore seeing himself behave so differently had been a truly frightening experience.

He stood up and discovered that his boxers were soaked through as well, though thankfully not with urine. He’d never wet the bed as a child thanks to the superhuman capacity of his bladder, and thankfully that was still the case. He’d just sweat more than he originally thought, was all.

He dropped the boxers to his ankles and was about to reach for another pair when the door to his room sailed open and he saw Lois Lane standing in the frame.

Unaffected by his nudity after being exposed to it so many times, she rolled her eyes. “We’ve gotta quit meeting like this,” she said.

“We wouldn’t have to if you’d learn to knock!” he shouted while doing his best impression of a tomato. “Shut the door!”

She complied, and rather than risk her opening it too soon again, he went into superspeed and dressed himself in less than a second.

Ever irreverent of his privacy, Lois opened the door just as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “How’d you do that?”

“Some of us don’t take four hours putting on make-up and fixing our hair,” he retorted, and she stuck out her tongue. “Real mature.”

“Whatever. Your mom and Chloe are already in the kitchen fixing breakfast. Since neither of them will trust me with even a spatula, I was sent to rouse you from your coma. But it looks like you already managed that.”

“Remind me why you’re staying with us again?”

“I told you, the inspector discovered mold in the Talon’s apartment so we’re homeless for the whole week until they can get rid of it. Though something tells me that if it had been just me and not Chloe as well you wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

He smirked at her. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Your mom probably would’ve convinced you to do it anyway. You know between her and Chloe, you’re pretty much whipped.”

“It’s a good thing I can still defy you, then.”

She stuck her tongue out again. He chuckled.

“Let’s just go, Smallville. The cows aren’t gonna milk themselves.”

“You sound like my dad.”

“So you can actually mention him without going all mopey,” she noticed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s an improvement.”

“I would feel sad if you didn’t annoy me so much.”

“Glad I could help. Now let’s go!”

Laughing, he strode past her and toward the stairs where he could already smell pancakes. It was true. He had been missing his dad a lot less lately, though it wasn’t because of Lois. Instead it was the petite blonde who greeted him with a hug as soon as he entered the kitchen.

He liked Chloe a lot better than her cousin, mainly because he’d known her longer. Even the things he could appreciate about Lois were things that reminded him of Chloe. Things like her journalistic mind, her sharp wit (though he still preferred Chloe because at least she knew when to stop talking), and her talent for cutting through all the bull crap that he allowed to pile in front of him. But Chloe was his friend—practically his sister, in fact—whereas Lois was quite literally extended family.

Chloe had been with him through a lot of the dark times in his life, and he’d done the same for her. He knew it was because the girl had loved him since the first day they’d met in the eighth grade, though he rarely found himself reciprocating. The first time he’d responded to her affections had been at the Spring Formal freshman year, and there he’d broken her heart when he rushed off in the middle of the dance to save Lana. She’d officially forgiven him of course, but he could tell that she still hadn’t fully recovered from it, even after four years.

The next couple of years had been hard on their relationship, but they’d come out of it stronger than before. The deal she’d made with Lionel to look into the hidden details of Clark’s life had almost struck a deathblow to their friendship, but she had fought to keep it like she did with everything that she couldn’t bear to lose. He’d always admired her fighting spirit, and as much as she would have gagged at the cliché, he felt that the expression truly encompassed her essence. She might not be physically powerful like he was, but her brains and her willpower allowed her to keep up with him and she had proven incredibly useful, even invaluable over the years. Not that she couldn’t also scrap with someone who wasn’t able to bench press a tractor, but heavy lifting had always been more his arena.

They finally became inseparable after she’d figured out his secret. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that she had not told anybody else, despite the obvious temptation that sitting on the story of a lifetime must have been for her. She had proven her devotion to keeping his secret several times over since then, and he’d started to think of her as a sister.

Then she’d totally surprised him again by, in her words, “laying one on him” in the Daily Planet’s basement on Dark Thursday, her reason for that being that it was the end of the world, and she didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. They had of course been reunited, and just as he’d been about to confess another secret to her, Jimmy Olsen had come out of nowhere and completely blindsided him.

He’d stepped back at that point, writing off what he’d been feeling as a desire to replace Lana, which he concluded wouldn’t be fair to Chloe. She deserved someone as upbeat as Jimmy, to give her a break from his brooding tendencies. Although he did appreciate the fact that she was always there to try and lift his spirits. If it weren’t for her, he may very well have gone insane years ago.

Clark realized suddenly that he was sitting at the table with an empty plate, while the three women had ignored his leisurely stroll down memory lane and were chatting among themselves. He reached for the pancakes in the center of the table.

“He lives!” Chloe shouted exuberantly, though there were trace amounts of mocking in her tone.

“He speaks,” Clark retorted as he applied copious amounts of syrup.

“But he doesn’t listen,” his mother said from across the table. “We’ve been trying to get through to you for five minutes now.”

“Sorry.” His face matched his mom’s hair. “I guess I was somewhere else.”

“Uranus?” Lois quipped, and Chloe made a face. “What?”

“That joke got old after the first twenty-five times you used it.”

“Well I think it’s funny.”

“You would,” said Clark, and for the third time in the last ten minutes she stuck out her tongue. He ignored her. “I was just thinking about how much this feels like family.”

“Ugh, I’d rather French-kiss Lex Luthor than be related to you,” said Lois in her typical mood-ruining fashion.

“I bet he’d like that.”

She glared at him. “Hyperbole, Smallville. I thought you’d be used to it from hanging out with my cousin all the time.”

“Please, you couldn’t pierce Clark’s skull with a pitchfork,” Chloe said, and unknown to Lois, who thought that her little cousin was proving her point, she was actually telling the truth. “There are some things he just can’t be taught to recognize.”

“You’re just extended family anyway,” said Clark. “Chloe’s like a sister to me.” He was looking at Lois when he said that, and therefore completely missed the hurt expression on the young reporter’s face that vanished when he turned his attention back to her.

Martha, who had noticed the frown, spoke up: “So what are everybody’s plans for the day?”

“Well,” said Lois, “you and I are going to catch a ride to Metropolis to meet with Lionel and discuss the upcoming United States Senate election. After that I figured we’d just go shopping. It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed the city.”

Clark frowned at the mention of Lionel, but kept his thoughts to himself. His mother knew what she was doing, he reminded himself, and if anyone could handle Lionel Luthor, it was Martha Kent. And Lois.

“Do you need a ride to the Daily Planet, Chloe?” his mother asked, and to Clark’s astonishment, she shook her head.

“My editor has forbidden me from setting foot in the DP for the next week after he caught me and Jimmy in the supply closet.”

Clark’s eyes went wide. “What were you doing in there?”

“Conceiving our future child,” she snarked, and when she saw that Clark thought she was serious, she giggled. “Actually, we were still there at three a.m. even though everyone else had gone home already. He basically told me to think of this as an intervention. He doesn’t want this to end up another one of my addictions.”

He chuckled, knowing that Chloe had already developed a hopeless dependency on the Daily Planet even before she’d been employed there. “So you’ve been ousted from The Talon and the DP? How will you survive without your two most important fixes?”

“There are other means of getting coffee,” she said. “And just because I’m not allowed to set foot in the building, doesn’t mean that I’ve lost all access.” She held up a copy of today’s paper. “My editor didn’t say anything about reading, after all. Plus, it gives me time to do field research.”

“What kind of field research?”

“Well, research into actual fields, for starters.”

“Huh?”

“I’m thinking about writing an exposé on how crops produced with LuthorCorp fertilizer stack up against organic ones, and thanks to your father’s pathological distrust of all things Luthor, your farm is one of the few all-natural ones left.”

He grinned. “So now you’re attacking Lex about his legal business?”

“It’s not like I’d be the first. I just want to write one article where my editor won’t suggest bringing it to The Inquisitor instead.”

“Hey!” objected Lois. “Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it!”

“As I recall, those were the exact words you uttered to me right before I got drunk for the first time ever. What happened after that?”

Lois looked down. “You puked all over my shoes.”

“Exactly. Now unless you want me to completely overshadow you at that so-called ‘newspaper’ that I wouldn’t even touch unless I was desperately in need of toilet paper, I suggest you cease with the bandwagon routine.”

Clark laughed out loud, while Lois muttered something under her breath. “Well I'll be happy to help you move on to more responsible reporting,” he said. “How’d you like to help with the chores?”

“If by ‘help,’ you mean ‘observe,’ then yes. I’m afraid I’m not quite suited for lifting hay-bales and mucking stalls. And milking cows just makes me miss Jimmy for some reason.”

He didn’t quite catch her meaning at first, but when he thought of the jerking motions (Oh God!) involved, he turned redder than Mississippi on a political map. “Chloe!” he admonished, wishing he could burrow into his stack of pancakes to escape the awkwardness.

Lois giggled, which made him even more uncomfortable, because he regarded that as a sign of the apocalypse. He was half-expecting another meteor shower to start any minute.

Martha rolled her eyes at the three’s antics. “Clark’s more than capable of doing the heavy stuff, but if you wanted to make feed rounds I’d sure appreciate it. I’m not sure which is worse; making sure the cows eat, or trying to prevent Clark from devouring everything in the fridge.”

Having recovered from his near-aneurysm, Clark tried to defend himself: “At least I don’t drink from the milk carton anymore.”

“Thank God for small favors,” she deadpanned.

“I'll be happy to do that for you, Mrs. Kent,” said Chloe. She was one of the few who could get away with not calling Martha “Senator.” It just seemed weird to her to put a woman she knew so well and for so long in the same league as the people she regularly tried to defame when she wasn’t caught up with the Luthors. And with Clark’s earlier comment about family, she was almost certain she could get away with calling her “mom,” though that would have been beyond awkward. Still, she knew that Mrs. Kent regarded her as a daughter, especially since she knew Clark’s secret.

“I appreciate that, Chloe. It’ll give me one less thing to worry about when I’m in Metropolis today.”

Lois had started to fidget from being kept out of the conversation, so she decided to speak before she developed full-blown tremors: “Do you ever miss the Big Apricot, Mrs. K?”

“Sometimes, but I’ve never regretted moving out here and settling down with Jonathan. If I hadn’t done that, Clark wouldn’t have come into our lives.”

“And that would be such a tragedy,” Lois said dryly. This time it was Clark who stuck out his tongue. He withdrew it when Martha glared at him. She chuckled.

“I know you two might not always get along, but he’s been a good son. Not a lot of teenagers have to make life and death decisions every day.”

Clark’s eyes, as well as Chloe’s, widened at what Mrs. Kent had just let slip. For her part, Martha seemed unconcerned. Lois knew that Clark had been involved in a lot of sticky situations over the years—hell, he’d even rescued her from most of them—so it wasn’t exactly like she was revealing his secret. But it was still enough to garner a reaction from the pair of twenty-year-olds.

“We’d better get started on those chores,” Chloe said while nudging Clark, who stood up. “I want to be done in time to catch the Scooby Doo marathon that comes on at noon.”

Lois stood up as well. “I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with a group of twenty-somethings and their dog who basically spend the whole episode running from a monster that they could have easily unmasked from the beginning if they’d just known basic self-defense.”

“I like mysteries,” she answered, shrugging. “Come on, Clark.” After depositing their dishes in the sink, they exited through the back door.

“We’d better get going too,” said Martha, standing with a practiced ease that she’d always displayed. It was amazing how at home she seemed in her own body, whether on the farm or surrounded by a hundred bureaucrats. It gave Lois hope for when she eventually reached that age. Not that she wanted to think about that right now. “We don’t want to be late for our meeting with Lionel.”

“Are you sure he’s just a friend of yours, Mrs. K? He and his son have caused your family a lot of grief over the years.”

Martha smiled, and once more Lois was amazed at how comfortable the older woman seemed with her position in life. “Lionel’s changed. He knows things about this family that no one else does. He could never replace Jonathan, but I’ve come to value him as a friend.”

Lois was dumbstruck by how Martha Kent was able to identify and address her real point, which her second, non sequitur statement had been intended to mask. She really was the right woman for this job, she realized.

“Just as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into. I don’t want you ending up like Lana.”

“Lionel is nothing like Lex,” she insisted. “Not anymore. His experiences in prison and the time he spent in a coma after the second meteor shower changed him. He’s a new man.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

Martha shook her head. “No you don’t. One of the things I like most about you is that you never apologize for having an opinion. It’s the reason I chose you to be my Chief of Staff.”

“Yeah, well, with the whole Inquisitor thing working out so well I’m thinking of getting into journalism full time.”

“And I'll be very glad for you if you do. You should always do what makes you happy.”

Lois smirked. “Even if it’s torturing your son?”

“Both of you enjoy spending time with each other, even if neither one of you will admit it. I think Clark was right earlier when he said we’ve become a family. He knows better than anyone that you don’t have to be related by blood to have that sort of connection.” It was the truth, although only she, Clark, Chloe, and Jonathan when he was still alive, knew just how true it was.

“Whatever. We need to get dressed; the helicopter arrives in half an hour.”

She nodded. “I'll meet you down here when I’m done. Do you mind doing the dishes?”

“Are you sure? Knowing me I'll probably just flood the kitchen in foam.”

Martha smiled. “I'll get Clark to do them later. You pull your own weight enough managing my schedule; you don’t need to do housework.” She started to walk up the stairs.

“Mrs. K?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. For breakfast.”

She smiled again, pleased to hear gratitude from the normally self-absorbed former army brat. “You’re welcome, Lois,” she said before disappearing up the stairs.
--

By the time Chloe finished making all the feed rounds, Lois and Martha had already left for Metropolis and Clark was finished with his chores. She found him sitting in his loft. He smiled as she approached.

“About time you got done.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all move faster than the speed of sound.”

“I could have done it for you.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine, really. Gave me a chance to think about things.”

“What things?”

“Like the fact that I’m really glad I didn’t wear any of my DP wardrobe today. I think I'll just change into some sweat pants and a sports bra later on and veg on your couch.”

“Do you want me to set the TV on fire?”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Whoa, Romeo, who said you were sitting with me? Jimmy’s the only one with that privilege.”

Clark pouted. “But we’ve always sat together when we watch TV.”

“That was before I had a boyfriend. It’d just feel weird snuggling next to someone who claims to be my brother.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted, grinning. “At least let me sit next to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, Clark, you can sit next to your sister while watching television.”

“Thank you.”

She frowned. Just how dense was he? Even if he hadn’t seen her briefly lose her focus earlier when he made them out to be siblings, he ought to be able to know that she didn’t feel totally comfortable with the notion. Not that they hadn’t gotten really close—she just wanted to keep her options open in case things didn’t work out with Jimmy. And even though they lived in the middle of Hicksville, she was a city girl and incest was still taboo to her. She didn’t think Clark was the kind to get romantic with family members either, but then it wasn’t like he had relatives in the next county or anything, so she couldn’t really be sure.

“Is something wrong Chloe?” he asked her and she gasped. “You were gone for a little while.”

She shook her head, trying to clear it of all the old cobwebs that still constituted her feelings for Clark. “I’m fine,” she lied, walking over to sit next to him on the couch. “What were you thinking about before I got here?”

The contented look that had brightened his face up to this point vanished instantly. “I had a dream last night.”

“Nightmare?”

“Something like that.”

“What was it about?”

He chuckled. “You know what sucks about having a photographic memory?”

“Aside from the possibility of walking in on Lois and Oliver doing it and never, ever being able to erase that image from my brain, I’m not really sure.”

Clark blanched at the idea of Lois having sex with anyone, especially Ollie. “Remembering what it feels like to be totally out of control of your actions.”

“What actions are we talking about?”

“Killing Lex.”

Her eyes widened. “Not that your feelings towards the younger Luthor shouldn’t be murderous after all he’s done to you, but what exactly brought this on? What were the circumstances?”

He sighed. “I was flying.”

“Flying?”

“Flying. I’ve dreamed about it before, like after Homecoming or before I put the key in the cave wall. It usually indicates something big is about to happen.”

“Have you ever done it in real life?”

He nodded. “Twice. Well, three times if you count floating in my sleep.”

“When?”

“The first time was when I met a girl who claimed she was from Krypton and told me her name was Kara. She held my hand, and the next thing I knew my feet weren’t touching the ground. I asked her what she was doing, and she told me I was doing it too.”

“Well that makes sense. Otherwise you’d just be dangling or something. When did this happen?”

“Right around the time when Lionel was being put on trial for murdering his parents,” he said, and they both looked away for a moment. “Everything in my life was falling apart at that point, and Kara was someone who could understand what it was like to be different. I wanted so badly to be with someone like me that I fell right into Jor-El’s trap.”

“Say what?”

“Kara wasn’t really Kryptonian. That wasn’t even her name. Her name was Lindsay, a student who disappeared sixteen years earlier.”

Chloe blinked. “Well that explains that one.”

“What?”

“Your father came into The Torch for the only time ever and asked me to get fingerprints off a mug, and it turned out to be this Lindsay girl.”

Clark nodded to show that he understood. “Well he didn’t get back to me with that information until it was too late. Lindsay took me to the caves, and I ended up stuck inside one of the walls.”

She gasped, and Clark reflexively gripped her hand in his to reassure her. She relaxed. “Three months later I came out, totally brainwashed. I wasn’t myself.”

“Who were you then?”

“Kal-El.”

“Isn’t that your birth name?”

He nodded. “That was when I met Lois. It sort of set the standard for the rest of our encounters.” He was blushing. She smiled.

“So that was the last time you flew?”

“Yeah. It was different, though. It was effortless, even easier than my super-jumps. I just knew that I could fly, and I did it. It was the first time I ever felt really free.”

“So why haven’t you done it since then?”

Clark sighed and let go of her hand. “Because like I said, I wasn’t myself. Kal-El wasn’t concerned about Smallville. He… I, only cared about fulfilling my destiny. I didn’t care about dad, I literally pushed my mom around, and it didn’t matter to me that you were supposedly dead and that Lionel was going to go free without your testimony. Kal-El wasn’t concerned with Earth, because he-I knew I didn’t need it, so I left it behind.”

He looked down. “That’s what it felt like in the dream. Only this time I wasn’t just indifferent to peoples’ suffering. I was causing it.”

“What?!”

“I wasn’t razing villages or anything, but I burned down Washington, D.C. and broke into the White House.”

“Why?”

“Apparently Lex was President.”

“Well that’s a good reason for you to be thinking murderous thoughts.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make crushing his windpipe right. Do you wanna know what he said before Kal-El… I, killed him?”

“What?”

“He said, ‘I always knew you weren’t human, Clark.’”

“So? That was probably just your subconscious manifesting itself. It may not be the truth.”

“Maybe, but when you consider all the research he’s been doing into meteor mutants with 33.1, and the fact that he had the black ship for all those months, he has to suspect something. You remember when I lost my powers and those mutants escaped from Belle-Reeve and demanded that I break into Level 3 and get that serum?”

Chloe nodded.

“You were the one who figured out that Lex set the whole thing up. He was trying to get me to use my powers, which thankfully I didn’t have or who knows what might have happened when I opened a vault full of Kryptonite.”

“So Lex suspects something. That doesn’t mean he knows.”

“You’re probably right, but how long until he connects the dots?”

“Hopefully not longer than it takes for Ollie and his team to shut down 33.1. Which would probably go a lot faster if you helped them.”

He looked down. “I kinda have my own stuff to take care of first. Besides, what would happen if Lex found out I was involved with Ollie’s team? He already hates me, would he really hesitate to lock me up if he found out he was right?”

“Probably not. But you’ve avoided exposure this long, and even if he does find out, by the time you’re finished he might not even have any secret labs left to lock you up in. So what are you worried about?”

“I just don’t think I should be pushing my luck. And face it, that’s the only thing that’s kept him from finding out and actually remembering.”

“Wait, you mean he’s found out your secret before?”

“When Lionel had him committed to Belle-Reeve. I stopped Morgan Edge’s car from running him over and he saw me. When I visited him a month later he asked for me to break him out. When I refused, he sorta confirmed why he was in there to begin with.”

“But the shock-therapy wiped his memory of those seven weeks where he knew your secret.”

Clark nodded. “Yeah.”

She scooted closer to him. “Well, even though I hate Lionel’s guts for what he’s done to me and my family, at least he managed to make things work out for the best.”

“Sometimes I wonder if he actually did. I mean, would it be so bad if Lex knew my secret? He didn’t have any of his resources at that point and if we’d taken him off the drugs he might have been able to start a new life.”

“Clark, even if that were true, you know what kind of person he is. People like that don’t change, at least not permanently.”

“Lionel would disagree with you.”

“Being a Kryptonian Oracle is different from losing your fortune and almost losing your mind, Clark. Lex would have found a way to get back in control and then he’d start his crusade, just like he has now. You can’t save people from themselves.”

“That shouldn’t stop me from trying.”

Chloe sighed and rubbed his shoulder. “Clark, you’re the strongest, most noble person I know. But even you can’t change who people are. That’s a choice they have to make for themselves.”

“I can still try and push them in the right direction.”

“And I can push on you all day long, but we both know the only way you’d move is if you chose to.”

“I can’t give up on Lex.”

She stared at him, her features hard. “If you won’t help take down 33.1, you already have.”

“That’s different.”

“How, Clark? Because for all your talk about saving people from themselves, you’re willing to let a man like Lex ruin the lives of so many people who never asked for their abilities to begin with, just because you’re afraid of being found out? For someone willing to put himself in harm’s way and carry the weight of the world on his shoulders on a daily basis, that’s awful selfish of you, Clark.”

He sighed. “I know. But I just can’t deal with this right now.”

“You’re gonna have to sooner or later. Lana suspects something too and I think she might actually be on to you. If they ever stop playing power games with each other and pool their resources, they might actually stumble upon the truth.”

“We just have to hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Or make sure it doesn’t by crippling his operation from under him. You know you could bring him to his knees, Clark.”

Clark looked at her, his face solemn and stern. “Now do you know why I consider that dream a nightmare?”

She didn’t answer.
--

“Martha, thank you for coming,” Lionel greeted, hugging her as she and Lois entered his office. “Miss Lane.”

“Mr. Luthor,” she barely managed not to choke out, no small task given that she was currently trying to quell the prison break being staged by her breakfast. It wasn’t because she’d eaten too much either. Good thing Lionel didn’t insist on giving her a hug. How could Martha stand to touch a man who had once been in the same league as Stalin? And probably—no, definitely—still was as far as she was concerned? Regardless of what the older—and definitely wiser—woman said about him, Lois knew from countless fights with her sister that people never really changed.

“Do you mind giving the Senator and I a moment to talk?” he requested smoothly, and Lois tried to figure out which was worse: staying when she so desperately wanted to leave, or abandoning the woman who had basically taken on the role of her mother (adoptive parents tended to do that with everybody) to fend for herself in the Lion’s den.

Martha, being a Tigress herself, made the decision for her. “It’s okay, Lois. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled. “Of course. Lionel’s a friend.”

‘Yeah, and I’m in love with Clark,’ she quipped internally, but replied instead: “Alright, Mrs. K. I'll be right outside if you need anything.” With that, she stepped out.

When they were alone, Lionel turned to Martha. “How’s Clark?” he asked.

She glanced over to where Lois had just exited. “You know she’s probably leaning up against the door right now.”

The billionaire smirked. “Please, I’ve held enough ‘private meetings’ in this office to know how to cover my bases. The material that makes up those doors, as well as the windows and walls, is bulletproof, shatterproof, and above all, soundproof. The only person who could hear us from the other side is Clark.”

Martha smiled, a reaction that he could never elicit from her when Jonathan was around, but was actually becoming quite common the more time they spent together. “He’s doing fine,” she said in response to his earlier question. “He’s still pretty torn up about Lana, but he’s missing his father less.”

“That’s good,” Lionel said in a tone that Martha could not quite identify the feeling behind. It gave her an uneasy feeling in her stomach, but she ignored it for now. “He’s finally coming of age, when he’ll be ready to accept his destiny.”

She nodded and her lips were drawn into a small crescent. “All this time we thought Jor-El sent him here to conquer, when his real destiny was to save humanity from themselves.”

“Your son always has excelled at… achieving the impossible. I’ve tried and failed many times to save Lex from the darkness that threatens to consume him.”

“A darkness that you put there,” she said flatly. Just because Lionel was her friend, that didn’t mean she was going to sugarcoat things. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He smirked. “No, the darkness was there all along. Granted my Machiavellian parenting methods were certainly responsible for drawing it to the forefront, but he always tried to deny that part of himself. Now he’s begun to embrace it. And if Clark doesn’t confront him soon, it may be too late.”

“Funny how often ultimatums like that seem to pop up when you’re involved in the stuff we are, isn’t it?”

Lionel chuckled. “Yes, they’re like dandelions: once you think you’ve eliminated the threat, its seeds are scattered to the wind and they end up with people like Lex.” He paused, and his features turned grave. “I’ve seen the face of the darkness that drives him, Martha. It’s the same darkness that drove me to commit all those terrible deeds for which I can never make up.” He gave her a resigned look, and she smiled sympathetically.

“It starts out as the desire to understand,” he said. “To know how everything works. But once you come to that understanding you begin to realize how fragile life really is, and suddenly the stars lose their brilliance. After you dissect a bird to discover the mechanism that allows it to fly, it’s never quite the same to watch the live ones soar as it was before. You start to hunt the birds. You try and drag them down to Earth, where you have been cursed to reside. Jealousy takes hold and never lets go, and eventually you’d rather level a city than admire its skyline that reminds you of an accomplishment that you could equal, but that would bring no satisfaction because nothing in this world is worth it in the end. You can’t take it with you, so you end up throwing it all into the fires of Hell.”

He smiled. “Clark saved me from that darkness. He can save Lex, if he can stop 33.1. You have to convince him, Martha. Here,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper, “give him this.”

She took it, and turned it over to discover an array of Kryptonian symbols that she could not decipher. “What does it mean?” she asked him.

“I don’t know; I’m just the vessel. Clark is the only one who can read it. I believe it’s a message from Jor-El. Please, you must give it to him. It’s the only way to convince him to fight.”

“And what if I don’t want my son to be part of this battle?” she challenged. “What if I say he can’t do this?”

“Then the fate of Krypton will become ours,” he said gravely.
--

She sucked at denial. When truth is your life’s work, it becomes hard to lie to the people you care about. Not that Chloe couldn’t fib so convincingly that only a polygraph would be able to tell if she was being dishonest, but unfortunately for her, Clark and lie-detecting machines had something in common: he could hear her heart beat.

Chloe knew that Clark had been able to tell that she was throwing the whole sibling thing at him out of frustration and that she really didn’t mind being able to snuggle up against him while they watched Shaggy and Scooby have a contest over who could eat the largest sandwich, only for Scooby to end up devouring both. As her giggles sent her back into his chest repeatedly, she found herself amazed that someone whose skin was tougher than diamonds could be so incredibly comfortable to lean against.

Shelby barked at the screen, and they both turned to look at the golden retriever as he lay down on the floor and put his front paws on either side of his nose.

“Are you jealous that you’re not fast enough to do that?” Clark teased, and the auburn-haired dog sent him a reply that was half-whine, half-growl. It was his way of saying, “Shut up.”

Chloe laughed, and Clark’s grip tightened around her. He began tickling her exposed side—she had gone with the sweat pants/sports bra combo after all, though she’d had to borrow the top from Lois—and she shrieked, trying in vain to escape his Anaconda grip. Damn him and his superior alien strength! Damn—“AGH! Clark, stop that!”

He was laughing just as loud as she was, and part of Chloe wanted to let the Kryptonian have his fun. But her self-preservation instincts told her to stop the sensation in her side at any cost. Even spoiling his good mood.

“OW!” she screeched, and Clark immediately stopped.

“Chloe, are you okay?” He let her go and sat her up, X-Raying her body for any signs of internal injury. She seemed fine. But then why…?

“Gotcha,” she snickered, and he realized he’d been duped. Rather than take it in good humor, he went with his usual reaction: moping.

“That wasn’t funny, Chloe,” he said sternly. “I thought I’d really hurt you. My hand was right by your spinal cord—I thought for a minute I’d paralyzed you.”

Realizing that she had been the one to hurt him, she sobered up immediately. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But short of meteor rocks there’s not really anything else that can get you to let go.”

“I know, and I’m sorry if I didn’t leave you with any other choice. We were already pushing it with the snuggling. I shouldn’t have violated you like that.”

Violated…? “Clark! Is there a single bad conclusion that you won’t jump to? Friends tickle each other all the time.”

“Yeah, when they’re ten. Not when tickling excites certain… other parts.” He moved his eyes downward, by way of indication, not staring.

She followed his gaze down to where she could see the defined ridges of her nipples which were hard enough that they could almost pierce the thin blue cotton of her top.

“Are you refraining from looking because you’re trying to be a gentleman or because you don’t want to set me on fire?” she asked.

“Both,” he admitted, finally raising his hand in front of his face and letting out two steady beams of heat. When they dissipated, he looked at her again. “I hate that power.”

“I dunno, it’s kinda nice to have a more visceral indication that I’m turning you on.” She smirked when even more blood filled his cheeks. “But I thought you didn’t believe in incest.”

“It’s not like I really have any blood relatives left.”

“True, but you wouldn’t want to destroy our friendship, would you?” she teased.

Oh, she was laying it on thick, he thought despairingly, though the realization came to him not in words, but in a growing feeling of dread. “What about Jimmy?” he winced, not really hurt by the flames going into his hands, but practically dying of embarrassment.

She chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting,” she insisted. “It’s not like you love me,” she added as an afterthought. A bitter one at that.

The fire had disappeared from his eyes, but as he looked at her now, suddenly they seemed more piercing than ever. She knew he could already see right through her, but now it felt like he was looking into her soul.

“I do love you,” he said softly, and she knew that he could hear her heart as it skipped a beat. “But not in the same way you love me. I love you as a friend, as a sister, but that’s all.”

“The hell you do,” she growled right before she lunged across the couch and covered his alien lips with her human ones.

‘Oh, boy, here we go again,’ Clark thought before he slid his lips apart in concession to her questing tongue, which she eagerly plunged into his mouth, eager to re-explore the familiar territory.

Was it really so bad, to love her as more than a friend? As more than a sister? Marriage was a way of entering into a family, after all. And she had just excited him more than Lana ever used to; he would consider the reasons why later. Right now all he could think of, all he could feel was the warmth of her body on his, the closeness of her skin, his sudden desire to see more of Chloe, to feel her in ways he had only explored with one other person, whose memory and whose name were as distant to him now as the memories of his home planet.

Before he could act on his desires, however, he heard a jingle of keys and the sound of a lock being turned. He forced her off of him, relieved that Chloe had not been wearing a particularly dark shade of lipstick when they’d kissed. Then the door opened and in came Lois and his mother.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Chloe whispered softly enough that only he was able to hear it. He nodded.

Lois grunted as she set down the bags in her arms. “Wow!” she panted like he would have loved to make Chloe gasp for breath. “I’d forgotten how much of a rush shopping gave me!”

“It was nice of Lionel to offer us the use of his credit cards and his limo,” agreed Martha, who had but a single bag of clothes. “What have you two been up to?”

Before Clark had a chance to splutter out some babbling response that made it obvious that his brain had just been deep-fried, Chloe told her the truth: “Watching TV.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but a lie of omission was better than a flabbergasted “nothing.”

“Whatever,” Lois said. “C’mon, Chlo, It’s our turn to sleep in Clark’s room tonight.”

Oh yeah, they’d been alternating because last time Lois was here Clark had complained that his pillows were too soft once he finally recaptured his room. The memory of their sleeping arrangements helped Clark slowly pull himself back toward reality. When Chloe stood up and followed Lois up the stairs, his mother took her place next to him on the couch.

“Is everything alright, honey?” she asked, stroking his face. “You’re sweating. Have you been around Kryptonite lately?”

Oh, he’d been exposed to something much more dangerous: temptation. He realized that if the irradiated fragments of his home planet were his physical poison, then attractive blondes who knew his secret were his deadliest desire. Alicia Baker, however wrong her death had been, had manipulated him. Used him. Played on his emotions even though she claimed to love him, which he still didn’t doubt that she did. But he got the feeling now that her attraction to him was never about how happy they made each other; it was the fact that they could relate to each other based on how different they both were from everyone else. She had fallen in love with him because she was a teleporter, and he was an alien.

But with Chloe it was different. Chloe had desired him for years before she found out his secret. She had fallen in love with Clark Kent, not Kal-El. She appealed to his human side like Lana, and accepted him for his differences in almost the same capacity as Alicia. She hadn’t taken advantage of him just now; she’d simply done what they both wanted. She had taken the leap of faith and pulled him down with her, not knowing whether there would be water or concrete when they hit the bottom—only the journey concerned her.

Clark suddenly realized that he’d paused for way too long and shook his head. “No,” he answered her. “Not that I know of.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. How’d it go with Lionel?”

Sensing that he was desperate to change the subject, she replied. “It went okay. We went over my chances of winning the election and they’re fairly high. With Lionel’s connections I can afford to get in contact with the people I need to finance my campaign.”

Clark looked down, visibly upset. “I wish you wouldn’t talk to him.”

“Clark, if it weren’t for Lionel, your father wouldn’t have won the State Senate election.”

“AND HE WOULDN’T BE DEAD EITHER!” he yelled suddenly, rocketing to his feet.

“Clark, you know it was just a misunderst—”

“Like hell it was! He wanted dad out of the way so that he could have you to himself! Don’t you see the way he looks at you? He’s a predator, mom. You always used to tell me that about him, remember?”

“Lionel’s changed. Jor-El—”

“Isn’t my father! Jonathan Kent was! I don’t care how helpful he was stopping Zod, I don’t want you getting near him!”

She glared at him, and he suddenly felt overcome with weakness that not even Kryptonite could achieve. He sat down. “You don’t think I know exactly what I’m getting myself into, Clark?” she said sternly, and he bowed his head like a misbehaved child. “I know that Lionel has been a danger to our family in the past, but like the old saying goes, we should keep our friends close, and our enemies closer.”

“You saw how that worked out between me and Lex. Now Lana’s gonna marry him and it’s all my fault.”

“Lana made her choice, Clark. As much as you might still love her, you have to let her live her own life. You may be able to move mountains, but you can’t force people to choose and still remain human.”

“But I’m not human, mom! That’s the problem!”

“You’re my son and I love you. And I didn’t raise you to control other people. It was Lana’s decision to marry Lex, just like it’s my decision to remain friends with Lionel. The son I raised would respect that.”

He nodded. “I do,” he said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Martha patted her son on the shoulder before pulling the sheet of paper out of her jacket pocket. “Lionel gave me this,” she said, handing it to him. He looked over the symbols and a grim expression solidified his features into a stony glare. “What does it say?”

“It’s what was written on the inside of my spaceship,” he said. “‘On this third planet from this star Sol, you will be a god among men. They are a flawed race. Rule them with strength, my son.’”

He sighed and closed his eyes before reciting the last line.

“‘That is where your greatness lies.’”

Stranglehold Chapter Four: The Weight of the World

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:17:19 GMT

Chapter Four. This is the last one for now. I still have to write the next one.

Clark entered the library of the mansion to find Lex sitting on his couch, gripping a colossus of pages in his hands.

“What’re you reading?”

Lex paused in his reading and held up the cover for Clark to view. He saw the image of a statue viewed from below, bearing effortlessly on its shoulders the weight of a hollow metal globe. He recognized it from the multitude of photos Chloe had shown him of the Daily Planet. It was the same picture that decorated Max Taylor’s office, as well as the staircase that led down to the archives in the basement. Emblazoned on the cover were two words. Clark read them aloud:

“Atlas Shrugged?”

Lex nodded. “Ayn Rand’s masterpiece. It’s a great book. You should check it out sometime.”

Clark buried his hands in the pockets of his red jacket, which he had worn despite the unseasonably warm weather. Temperature just wasn’t a big deal to him. “What’s it about?”

“It’s an epic tale about a man who said that he would stop the motor of the world,” he answered, crossing one leg over the other and leaning further back into the couch. "It’s about the value of human productivity; about how men who possess great power and ability shouldn’t have to answer to those who don’t. It tells the story of the end of the world; and the beginning of a new one.”

“What caused it to happen?”

“The great men of the day—the businessmen, the producers, the saviors of the economic world—were leeched off of, tormented, and drained of their life solely because they had the power to give it. They were damned for their ability; cursed as a poison to the world when in fact they were its life blood. They were treated like a plague, even though they were the ones keeping the world from dying of starvation. They had the ability to move mountains, but drain a man of blood and his strength goes with it.”

He shifted his position so that both his feet were on the ground, then leaned forward and continued: “Eventually they’d had enough. When all they got for their hard work was punishment, when they were cursed as a boil on the back of humanity, when robbery became the proper function of the law and only the good men suffered, they dropped out of the race. They withdrew their minds, which the beggars and the looters of the world had damned them for daring to use. They shrugged the weight of the world off their shoulders.”

“Hence the title,” observed Clark.

Lex inclined his head.

“But why? Why quit when they were the only ones keeping the motor running?”

“Their plan was to let the world destroy itself, then rebuild it from scratch afterwards.”

“Did they succeed?”

“Yes.”

Several moments passed as Clark shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Finally he voiced his thought: “But there must have been a better way. The world isn’t all bad.”

“Of course not. But take out all the good and what have you got left?”

Clark said nothing.

“There’s a line from this book that I'll never forget,” Lex continued while turning to the appropriate page. “‘Every man builds his world in his own image,’” he read aloud. “‘He has the power to choose, but no power to escape the necessity of choice.’”

He raised his head. “What will your world look like, Clark?”

“Well….” Clark looked around, idly flexing his hands before returning them to his pockets. “I guess it’d be a world of justice. A world where people do the right thing. A world where people won’t need somebody to save them.”

“People will always need saving,” disagreed Lex, reclining back against the cushions. “Especially from themselves.”

“You seem optimistic.”

Lex chuckled soundlessly.

“Do I even wanna know what your world would look like?”

“I plan to create a world where people aren’t expected to live up to their fathers’ expectations,” the billionaire answered. “Where we’ll all be free to choose our own destinies.”

“Sounds like my kind of world,” said Clark, unable to suppress a grin. Then he pondered the way his friend had worded that and furrowed his brow in confusion. “What do you mean, you ‘plan to?’”

Lex smiled. “There are two kinds of people in this world, Clark.” He held up a hand for emphasis, lowering all but his index and middle finger. “There are dreamers and then there are men of action. The first,” he lowered his middle finger so that only his pointer remained, “imagine what it would be like to try and move a mountain; the second,” he extended it again, “are the ones who actually go out there and move it.” He lowered his arm.

“I’m guessing you’re a man of action, then.”

“You guess correctly.”

There was a few moments’ pause before Lex said: “So while I’m touched by your newfound appreciation for small talk, I doubt you came here just to discuss the wider philosophical applications of great American Literature.”

He nodded. “Chloe’s in trouble.”

“What’s the intrepid reporter gotten herself into this time?”

“She made a deal with your father.”

“My father is the head of a multi-national corporation,” said Lex, setting his right arm on the back of the couch as though trying to make a move on some nonexistent girlfriend. At the same time, he rested his left ankle on his right thigh. “Thousands of companies and small businesses make deals with him every day.”

“This is different,” Clark said, being careful not to rip his jacket as his hands, still in the pockets, gestured slightly outwards. “He’s blackmailing her.”

“Another activity that figures regularly into my father’s life and business. Of course in that case I can actually help. What sort of deal did she make with him?”

Clark hesitated, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’d rather not say.”

“Clark, in order for me to help, I need to know everything.”

He sighed, removing his hands from the jacket. “He offered her new computers for The Torch and a column at the Daily Planet.”

“And my father doesn’t believe in a one-sided deal,” said Lex. “What’s in it for him?”

“His condition was for her to tell him everything she knew about me, both from her research into my past and the things she’d learned as my friend. He basically wanted her to spy on me.”

“I'm betting you weren’t happy when you found that out.”

“It’s in the past now. Chloe needs your help getting out.”

“What did he threaten her with?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Clark, I need to know the exact terms of my father’s blackmail in order to ensure he can’t hold them over anyone’s head. I can’t help Chloe unless you tell me.”

“Well, besides threatening to remove her Daily Planet column, he also told her that her father would be fired from his job at the plant if she didn’t comply.”

“Gabe Sullivan is one of my best workers, Clark. My new position at LuthorCorp gives me undisputed control over the plant. It was my father’s way of sweetening the deal. If he asks me to fire him, I'll say no.”

“Thank you,” said Clark.

“Now as for her column, I’m afraid my father has more control over the Daily Planet than I do. I can guarantee her a job at The Inquisitor if she wants.”

“Thanks, but I think Chloe would rather lose her hands to carpal tunnel writing for The Torch the rest of her life than write a single word for a paper that she says isn’t worth lining a bird cage with.”

Lex chuckled. “I'll talk with my father,” he promised. “Just keep Chloe and yourself out of trouble. He’s not someone to mess with.”

“Thanks, Lex.” He turned to leave.

“Anytime.”

Before he walked out the door, he turned around. “Say, Lex, do you think I could borrow that book? I promise I'll return it.”

“You can keep it,” Lex replied, tossing it to him. He caught it easily. “I’ve read it cover to cover five times already. I practically have it memorized.”

Clark grinned. His friend was always so gratuitously generous. Most people would point to Lex’s desperate desire to be accepted as the reason for that, but Clark liked to believe that he was only doing what any friend would given his resources.

“See ya,” he said before walking out the door.
--

“Mr. Rearden,” said Fransisco, his voice solemnly calm. “If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down on his shoulders—what would you tell him to do?

“I… don’t know. What… could he do? What would you tell him?”

“To shrug.”

Clark heard footsteps coming up the stairs to his loft and looked up from his book. He smiled. It was Chloe.

“Hey!” she greeted. “What English assignment are you failing this time?”

He laughed. “Actually this is a book Lex gave me.” He held up the cover for her to see.

“Ah, Atlas Shrugged,” she said in a tone of fond reminiscence that would have seemed more appropriate if she’d been sipping Cognac and sitting in front of a fireplace. “The classic tale of the man who stopped the world from turning by removing the one thing that kept it spinning.”

“You’ve read it?”

“Clark, when I told you I’m a lexophile, I wasn’t referring to the billionaire who gave you that book. I like reading as much as I like writing.” She noticed that the two sides of the novel were almost even. “Say, what page are you on?”

“Four hundred twenty-two,” he answered.

She nodded, impressed. “You must have been at this for weeks.”

“I just got it today.”

Her eyes bugged. “Whoa! Are you reading a novel or a flip-book?”

Clark chuckled. “Actually, speed-reading is one of my abilities.”

“Too bad you never actually bothered with comprehension,” she quipped.

“I understand it pretty well,” he retorted. “I’m just starting to get a picture of the overlying theme, in fact.”

“The title scene?”

He nodded. “You know, I’ve been thinking. About Atlas.”

“What about him?”

“He had it easy. I mean, he might have had to carry the world on his shoulders, but at least everybody knew it. They knew their lives depended on him. They never called him jealous or questioned his judgment. He didn’t have to explain away mysterious hunches or quick exits. Everybody just knew who he was, and they accepted it.”

“He never had to lie,” Chloe finished the thought for him, then walked over to sit next to him on the couch.

Clark nodded. “I just don’t think he ever had to deal with keeping a secret.”

She smiled sympathetically and rubbed his shoulder. “Well I’m here to help you carry it, if you want.”

“Thanks, but you knowing actually makes this harder,” he said. “I’m putting you at risk by letting you in on this. I’m making you a target for anyone who wants to know my secret.”

“Uh, in case you’ve forgotten, I was already a target of Lionel’s,” Chloe retorted. “You did the right thing by telling me.”

“It still doesn’t mean I should be burdening you with all this.”

She studied him for several moments, trying to figure out what it was that he refused to say. “Clark, what are you thinking about right now?”

He started rubbing his hands together. “I was just thinking about how Pete reacted when I first told him. He didn’t take it as well as you. In fact I almost lost him as a friend because he was mad at the fact that I’d lied to him all those years.”

“What made him get over it?”

“The fact that I saved his life from Dr. Hamilton,” answered Clark. When Chloe motioned for him to continue, he said: “Hamilton had strapped him to a chair and was threatening to inject him with enough Kryptonite to give him the same symptoms as Earl Jenkins. I busted in and saved him at the last minute.”

He looked down. “Later on Pete told me the reason he forgave me was because the whole thing made him realize just how much of a risk it was to know my secret, and that he understood why I felt like I had to protect him all those years by not letting him know.”

“I also told you I’d do it all again.”

They looked up.

Chloe grinned sheepishly. “Uh, did I forget to tell you Pete was coming over too?”

“It’s okay,” said Clark. “Come on over here, Pete. The couch always has room for one more.”

Pete chuckled and walked over to the chair at Clark’s desk instead. “That’s okay; I'll just let you two lovebirds snuggle.”

Clark turned redder than Mississippi on a political map. “So I take it you know?” he asked once his cheeks stopped burning.

He nodded, grinning slyly. “Your mom filled me in. I mean, you told me Chloe knew your secret, but you didn’t tell me she took it this well!”

In an effort to get Clark to imitate a tomato once more, Chloe leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Pete whooped in celebration, then clapped at the display.

“Oh hush,” Clark chided, tossing a baseball at his best friend’s head. Pete ducked, grateful that he hadn’t used his powers to throw it.

He shrugged. “Hey, you can’t blame me for getting excited at the fact that our club has a new member.”

Chloe liked the sound of an exclusive ‘club’ for people who knew Clark’s secret. “Ooh, do we get cool jackets?” she asked.

“You want mine?” Clark offered, and she shook her head.

“No, thanks. How can you even stand to wear that when it’s so hot out?”

“The invulnerable skin means he doesn’t get affected by temperature much,” supplied Pete. “He could go skinny-dipping in the Arctic.”

They all laughed.

“So how did you feel about it when you found out, Pete?” Chloe asked.

“Well, like Clark said, I was a little ticked off that he lied to me all those years. But I got over that. I think more than anything I was scared.”

“Why?”

“Because suddenly I was the man who knew too much. I was afraid there were gonna be other people like Hamilton who would try and force his secret out of me.”

“But you know Clark would never let that happen,” she insisted.

“I can’t be there all the time,” Clark countered. “With each person I tell, I’m putting more and more people at risk. No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep everybody safe.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, stroking his shoulder. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“What about Lionel?” Pete challenged, and Chloe looked down.

“I went to talk to Lex,” said Clark. “He said he’d take care of it.”

“You sure about that?”

He nodded. “I know you don’t trust him, Pete, but I do. He’s not his father.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

Silence reigned over the loft for several minutes. Finally Chloe spoke up. “So enough serious talk. What do you guys wanna do now?”

“Let’s go to The Talon,” Clark suggested. “I think I could go for some coffee right now.”

Chloe couldn’t help scowling. “And because you want to talk to Lana, right?”

“She’s still my friend,” he said. “And besides, even if I can’t be totally honest with her, she deserves to know about you and me. I think it’d be better if we told her together.”

She shrugged, seeing the logic in that. “Okay, but we’re taking my car. I think I’m gonna have to start wearing a neck brace for whenever you speed me anywhere.”

Clark nodded. “You coming, Pete?”

“Sure.” He got up, and the three of them headed down the stairs.

It was just like old times, thought Clark. No secrets, no lies. Just Clark, Chloe and Pete. Three friends.

But at the same time so much more.
--

The frosted glass doors hissed open and Lex entered his father’s office to find him sitting at his desk like it was a throne. Rather than kneel, the younger billionaire strode confidently over to Lionel and smirked in greeting.

“Feeling like royalty, Dad?”

It was his hair, thought Lex, that made his father appear so untouchable. It gave the very correct impression that Lionel Luthor was a man who did what he wanted, the rest of the world be damned. He was, unlike the kings of old, a man who had gotten to his position on his own effort. That he had scaled a mountain of his enemies’ corpses to rise to such heights was worth noting, and always at the back of anyone’s mind whenever they met him. His regal posture suggested majesty, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was a bastard heir who, while fit for the throne he had created, was nothing even remotely close to a figure of nobility.

Still, his father at least looked like a king. Not that kings were usually dressed in Armani suits, but still.

Lionel chuckled and his mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Only because I know you’re not going to try and usurp me, right Lex?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered, keeping the right corner of his lip curled upward. “Not after you’ve exiled me so many times. I know better than to challenge the king when he’s not weak.”

The elder Luthor crossed his hands over his lap, intertwining his fingers. “So if you’re not here to stage a coup, Lex, what brings you to my office?”

“It’s recently come to my attention that you have a problem with an employee at the Smallville plant,” said Lex, walking over to his father’s Scotch and pouring himself a glass. “Gabe Sullivan, to be exact. I’m curious to know why such a good man would be in your crosshairs.” He took a sip. “Although I suppose I just answered my own question.”

His father laughed out loud and leaned back in his chair. “I assume your mysterious source had something to do with this?”

“I’m no longer in contact with his daughter, if that’s what you’re accusing me of,” said Lex. “In fact, I don’t even remember speaking to her recently due to the seven week gap that you so graciously provided me with,” he continued, pointing at his head.

“You were sick, Lex,” Lionel defended. “I was only trying to help.”

“I’m sure you were.”

He scowled. “Well then who is it? Who’s been giving you this information?”

“What’s to say I don’t have my own people monitoring your phone calls?” challenged Lex, extending the glass in his father’s direction, then back at himself. “Between us we’ve planted enough bugs to start an insect farm.”

“Because that would be too easy, even for you.”

Lex smirked. Sometimes it seemed like his father knew him too well.

“What do you want, Lex?”

“I want you to leave Chloe Sullivan alone. She’s a friend of Clark’s. He wouldn’t be happy if anything were to happen to her.”

“And what will you do if something does?”

Internally, Lex paused. He hadn’t expected his father to say that. “What are you implying?”

“I know that your interest in Miss Sullivan is more than just a favor for a friend,” he accused. “You’re drawn to her for the same reason I was—she’s the only one who can match your strength of will. She’s just like you when it comes to pursuing the truth, Lex. Her strength and tenacity are just as developed as yours. You’ve become attracted to her.”

Even though his father was a bastard, Lex had to admit that he had a near unnatural talent for reading people. He knew, because ever since he was old enough to speak the man had taught him how to look at things like body language, how to read between the lines, and how to determine a person’s true intentions by examining what they didn’t say. He smiled. Lionel really did know him too well.

“Do you remember the story of Atlas, son?”

Lex’s smile did not waver, growing only wider as he recalled his conversation with Clark. “Bits and pieces,” he replied.

“He was the one who led the Titans in the Great War against the Olympians,” Lionel elaborated. “The sky was damaged from the fighting and Atlas was condemned by Zeus to hold up the heavens for eternity. If he tried to relieve himself of the burden, existence itself would perish. The universe, which he and his brethren had once ruled with absolute power, was now the source of his endless torment. All because he had to go and challenge the gods.”

“And here I thought you’d make a comparison to Icarus, or maybe even Prometheus,” said Lex, bored. “And if I remember correctly, the Great War started because the Titan Cronus was so afraid of his children rising up against him that he decided to swallow them whole.”

As if to punctuate that last statement, he took a long swig of Scotch before slamming down the empty glass and leaning over his father’s desk, a cold-hearted malice in his eyes. “I may be in your belly now, Dad,” he said, “but if you do anything to hurt my friends, I swear I'll give you a case of the stomach flu that you’ll never forget.”

Lionel chuckled, impressed with his son’s resolve. “All right,” he said. “I'll leave your little love interest alone. It will be amusing to watch you try and get close to her only to have her see you for what you really are.”

“Which is?”

He smirked. “My son.”

Lex chuckled, then gave a small bow. “Your majesty,” he said before departing.

Stranglehold Chapter Three: Confessions of a Teenage Alien

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:14:32 GMT

Chapter Three.

“Clark, why are you going through your dad’s toolbox?”

“There’s something in here I wanna show you.”

“Couldn’t you just tell me instead?”

“And ruin the mystique?” Clark grinned impishly. “Besides, you wouldn’t believe me unless I showed it to you.”

“I dunno, Clark. I’m pretty open-minded.”

“Let’s see if you remember that in about a minute,” he muttered. Finding what he was looking for, he hid it in his palm and walked back over to Chloe so that he was standing right in front of her.

“What’s in your hand?” she demanded.

For once in their entire relationship, he obliged her. When he opened his hand, she saw a small octagonal disk with strange hieroglyphics resting on his palm.

“Those are the same symbols from the caves,” she observed. “But since when did the Kawatchee make paperweights?”

“They’re not Kawatchee,” Clark corrected. “They’re not even from this planet.”

Before Chloe had a chance to respond, he continued: “Do you remember the legend of Numan?”

“The one about the guy who comes down in a rain of fire, has the strength of ten men and shoots fire from his eyes?”

“Yeah, that one. Do you ever wonder who it’s referring to?”

“Constantly. Why?”

Instead of answering, he strode over to where a bale of hay sat on the floor of the barn. Seemingly without effort, he tossed it up to the rafters.

Chloe wasn’t sure what to make of the display. “Okay, so you’ve apparently been drinking your milk, but what—”

Her next words caught in her throat as the bale of hay spontaneously combusted in mid-air. Before it landed, Clark caught it. She didn’t even see him move; it was like he’d teleported. If she’d been confused before, her bewilderment went into overdrive when he stopped the fire by snuffing it out with his bare hand.

It was several moments before she could even speak. “Y-you’re….”

“Yes,” Clark finished for her. “I’m Numan.”

“But you’re not Kawatchee.”

“Neither is the language on the cave walls.”

Her eyes grew wide, not with terror, but with the awe of witnessing a discovery so immense that it had the ability to render one speechless. “So when the legend talked about the rain of fire, it really meant….”

“The meteor shower,” he said.

“But… how…?”

“Chloe, do you know why my birth certificate and my adoption papers are forged? Do you know why you can’t find any information about me from before the meteor shower?”

She gasped. “But that would mean you’re an….”

“Alien,” he finished. He held up the disk. “This is the key that opened my spaceship. It also allows me to interact with the caves.”

Chloe threw up her hands. “Whoa, whoa, back up! Did you just say spaceship?! Why didn’t you just show me that?!”

He sighed. “Do you remember the day of Lex’s wedding? When we had that big fight?”

“Painfully,” she answered, really wishing he hadn’t brought that up right now.

“I was on my way to destroy the ship.”

“What?!”

He started to pace. “The ship contained an AI programmed to act as the will of my biological father. His name is Jor-El, by the way.”

“And what was your name on wherever you come from?”

“Kal-El,” he answered. “The planet I come from is called Krypton.”

“As in element number thirty-six on the Periodic Table?”

“As in a planet from a distant galaxy. Apparently the sunsets there lasted for hours.”

“Okay, so if the place had such a spankin’ view, why’d they send you here? And why with all those meteors?”

He frowned. “The planet was destroyed, Chloe. I’m the last of my kind.”

The journalistic intrigue that had danced in her eyes mere moments ago was replaced by a look of heartfelt compassion. “I’m so sorry, Clark,” she whispered.

“It’s fine,” he said, brushing it off and heading for the stairs that led to his loft. Chloe followed.

“So what’d the ship say that made you wanna destroy it?”

“Jor-El told me to leave Smallville,” he said, taking a seat on the couch. Chloe did likewise. “He burned this symbol,” he pointed to one of the markings on the octagonal disk, the one that looked like the number eight inside an inverted pentagon, “into my chest.”

“That must’ve hurt.”

He smirked. “You have no idea. Anyway, he told me that if I didn’t leave Smallville by noon the next day, everyone I loved would pay the price.”

“And I’m guessing you didn’t like that ultimatum.”

He shook his head. “Pete helped me to steal a copy of the key that Lionel made out of Kryptonite—that’s what the green meteor rocks are—to destroy the ship.”

“Okay, slow down!” Chloe demanded, rocketing to her feet. “First, why was Pete helping you?”

“He knows my secret,” answered Clark. “I told him a year ago.”

Chloe looked hurt. “Why him and not me?”

“He kinda found my ship after it flew out of the storm cellar when the tornadoes hit,” Clark admitted sheepishly. “It was either tell him or lose him as a friend. And even when I told him, I almost did.”

“But everything apparently worked out great between the two of you, right?”

Clark nodded.

“So now it’s time for you to answer part two of my question,” she continued. “Why would a key made out of… what’d you call it?”

“Kryptonite.”

“…Kryptonite, be enough to destroy the ship?”

“Because it’s the only thing that can kill me,” Clark said.

“Wait, what?”

“Chloe, you saw me put out that fire with my bare hands. I’m more than just thick-skinned; I’m bulletproof.”

Remembering all the times Clark had come into contact with small-arms fire, Chloe was wiling to bet that statement was true. “But Kryptonite weakens you?”

“And it negates all my powers. It’s like my blood starts boiling and I lose the ability to even stand when I’m near it. If I’m exposed to it long enough, I'll die.”

“Hence the reason why you couldn’t get within ten feet of Lana Lang without tripping over yourself for as long as she wore that necklace,” Chloe observed.

“Exactly,” said Clark. “It’s also the reason I got sick that one time. Irradiated spores.”

“Gross,” she commented. “Your mom came down with the same thing. What cured you?”

“The ship,” he answered. When she raised an eyebrow, he explained. “Whenever the ship opened, it emitted some sort of pulse that apparently negated the effects of any Kryptonite in the area. It also helped my mother become pregnant.”

Chloe was beyond stunned. “How?”

“The pulse acted as some sort of miracle-healer. It corrected whatever condition she had and made her able to bear children.”

“So what happened when you put in the Kryptonite key?” she asked with trepidation.

Clark frowned. “The opposite,” he said in a low, regretful tone. “It made her lose the baby.”

And for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, she was floored. “Clark, I’m so sorry that happened,” she whispered, sitting down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he continued: “It was the reason I left. I’d never seen my dad so afraid of me. I didn’t feel like I belonged here. So I ran away.”

“Wow,” she whispered, suddenly understanding what had driven him to abandon Smallville. “But if you were really that depressed, why’d you act like such a jerk when I found you in Metropolis a month later?”

“I actually have your class ring to blame for that,” he said, his tone the very definition of regret.

“Why?”

“You remember how the school cheaped out and made the gems out of red meteor rock?”

“Definitely. I wrote an exposé on it, remember?”

“Well, think about it. If green Kryptonite affects me physically….”

“…then the red Kryptonite has to do with your emotions,” she finished for him.

He nodded. “It removes my inhibitions and makes me say and do things I wouldn’t even think of otherwise.”

“Like a drug?”

“Well I don’t like to think of what I did in Metropolis as getting high, but yeah, basically.”

“Huh,” she said. “So what else can you do?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, so far you’re super-strong, you can shoot fire from your eyes, you’re physically invulnerable, and you apparently teleport?”

“Actually I just move faster than you can see me,” he corrected.

“I wondered how you always beat Pete and me to school even though you regularly missed the bus,” she mused. “Anything else?”

“I have heightened senses too. Just the other day I discovered I have the ability to hear someone whispering on the other side of the planet.”

Her eyes grew wide and she gasped. “That’s how you knew about me and Lionel!”

Clark nodded. “Apparently it was my other senses trying to compensate for my loss of sight,” he said. “I couldn’t quite control it at that point.”

“Well you mastered it pretty quickly,” she noted. “What else ya got?”

“One more,” he answered, taking a deep breath. “I can see through solid objects.”

Chloe’s eyes immediately bugged out and she scurried back to the other side of the couch, self-consciously crossing her arms over her chest.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t use it to do that,” he said, and Chloe relaxed. “I call it X-Ray vision because most of the time that’s literally what it is. Everything goes photonegative and I can see people’s skeletons.”

“That’s how you ID’ed Tina Greer,” she realized.

“Yeah,” he said.

She was quiet for the next several minutes. Clark watched her the whole time. He didn’t mean to stare, but he was very anxious about her reaction now that he’d finally told her the truth. “Well?” he asked finally.

“Well what?”

“Do you see me any differently now?”

She laughed, like he had just asked her what time of day the sun was at its most beautiful. “Of course I do, silly,” she answered, elbowing him. For the first time, she realized the true reason why he flinched: he didn’t want to hurt her.

He was apparently more than willing to heap pain and suffering upon himself, though, because she saw him frown. “I see,” he said.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Do you see me running for the hills?” she asked. “It’s not like you’re the first person with extraordinary abilities that I’ve come across. Just the first one who didn’t get them from the meteor rocks.”

In that moment she saw the weight of the world disappear from Clark’s shoulders. He looked up at her, unable to believe that she could be so accepting. “You really mean that?”

She nodded. “I do. You’re still the same Clark Kent I fell in love with, just with added benefits. You’re like my own personal superhero.”

Clark, having heard those words from her before, grinned. “You’re really okay with this?” he asked one more time.

“Yes,” she answered, slightly annoyed. “I'll prove it to you,” she said before making the distance between their faces disappear.

This was new territory for both of them. They’d kissed before, but never with Chloe half-lying on top of him. It was… stimulating, to say the least. Not that Clark would even acknowledge that thought short of being on red Kryptonite, which he definitely wasn’t. Still, it wasn’t like he was putting up much of a struggle.

He felt a sudden pressure on his lips, not realizing until a few seconds later that it was actually Chloe’s tongue seeking access to his mouth. He granted it, parting his lips and letting her inside. She wasted no time exploring. He wondered why his tongue was suddenly overwhelmed with pleasure until he realized that the blonde not-quite-temptress was stroking its underside with hers. It was all too much for him to process—which said a lot considering his superior brain power—and he moaned in response to her expert ministrations.

Clark suddenly became aware of a growing itch in his eyes. Somewhere beneath his hormone-induced fugue, he remembered what would happen next. He broke the kiss, shoving Chloe to the other side of the couch.

“Clark, what the hell?!” she screeched.

“Chloe, get down!”

She barely had time to duck before the wall behind her caught fire. Clark went into superspeed and ran by the flames, trusting that the wind he generated would be enough to extinguish them. He was back on the couch before Chloe could even raise her head.

“Chloe, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but what the hell was that?!”

Clark chuckled sheepishly. “I… uh… never told you what triggers my heat vision, did I?”

She blinked. “Sexual arousal? You’re kidding me. And here I thought it’d be anger.”

“That does it too,” he admitted. “But mostly it’s just the thinking about sex part.”

“Okay that is so not going to bode well for future make-out sessions,” Chloe said.

“It only happens when I lose control of myself,” he explained. “I can suppress it if I have time to warm up first.” She giggled at the pun. “If you don’t wanna get fried, we’re gonna have to take this physical stuff slow.”

“And here I thought I’d be the one putting a speed limit on the romantic activities. At least now I know why you never dated much. Aside from the Lana obsession, that is.”

Clark frowned. “Can we please not talk about that?”

“Say, you didn’t ever tell her your secret, did you?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid of how she might react.”

“Why? I took it well, as you can see.”

“Because you’re apparently a xenophile,” he quipped. Chloe resisted the urge to punch him, knowing that it would be like trying to hit steel.

“So then why?”

“Her parents were killed by one of the meteors,” he answered. “And she’s had so many meteor mutants try and kill her that I’m starting to think her power is attracting psychos. Everything that’s happened in Smallville is related to me. If I hadn’t come, neither would the meteor shower, and this town would be a hell of a lot more normal.”

“Now that would be a tragedy,” she remarked. “Still, why blame yourself? It’s not like your home planet blew up because of you. Correlation isn’t causation, Clark. Just because you happened to come with those meteors doesn’t mean you’re responsible for the effects.”

“Lana wouldn’t see it that way,” said Clark. “That’s why I can’t tell her.”

“She does have a tendency to jump to even worse conclusions than I do,” Chloe mused. “But you still owe her a chance.”

“Even though me telling her might ruin yours?”

Chloe didn’t even flinch. “Yes, Clark. I’m not gonna force you to tell her or anything—that’s your choice. Just know that if you don’t, you two will never be more than friends.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing anymore,” he replied, looking at her. She smiled.

“Well you can rest assured that I’m not going to tell anybody who doesn’t already know,” Chloe promised. “It’s not my place.”

“Whatever happened to ‘the people have a right to the truth?’”

“Not when that truth involves one of my best friends. There’s no such thing as impartial journalism.”

“Well then I’m glad we’ve decided to be even more than friends,” said Clark. “Even more security that way.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about pillow talk if you’re the only one I'm having it with.”

“That better be true.”

“Ooh, is Clark getting jealous?” she teased.

“Is there anything I should be jealous of?”

She shook her head.

He grinned. “Thanks, Chloe.”

“For what?”

“For accepting me in spite of what I am.”

Chloe actually laughed out loud. “In spite of it? Hell, now I love you even more! You were honest with me, Clark. That took guts.”

“It was worth the risk,” he said, beaming.

She glanced at the clock. “Don’t you guys usually have dinner around this time?”

Clark looked at his watch. “Actually we’re already late,” he said, standing up and extending his hand. “C’mon, I'll get us there in less than a second.”

Chloe accepted the proffered limb, not that she needed the help. “Arriba, arriba,” she said smokily.

He smiled. “Andale, andale,” he replied.

Hopping into his arms, she exclaimed: “Let’s go, Speedy!”

And the next thing she knew, she was having dinner with the Kents.
--

“So you never told me what the symbols mean,” Chloe said as she sat down beside Clark. “I assume that was you who burned that into your barn last year, correct?”

Clark nodded, chewing on a large piece of his chicken. Swallowing, he replied: “That was the symbol for Hope.”

“Prophetic,” she said. “So how’d you learn to read them?”

“When I put the key into the cave wall, it downloaded me with all the knowledge of my planet’s language,” answered Clark. “I literally became fluent overnight.”

“Wow,” Chloe breathed. “So you’re saying I could learn to read them?”

“Not like that,” he said. “The last person to try it was Dr. Walden, and he wound up in Belle-Reeve in a catatonic state.”

“So he suffered information overload?”

He nodded. “Apparently it was too much for any brain except mine to handle.”

“So what happened that made him wind up like an overcooked chicken fritter?”

“He regained consciousness the night before Lex’s wedding, as well as gaining the ability to emit energy from his hand using the key. He almost killed me.”

Chloe looked confused. “But I thought Kryptonite was the only thing that could do that.”

“There are other things that can hurt Clark,” said Martha. “Anything Kryptonian, for instance. He may be bulletproof, but he’s not immortal.”

“Still, having a kid with a dermis that’s harder than diamonds must do a lot to ease your worrying,” she volunteered.

“Actually it’s just as bad,” said Jonathan. “We may not have to worry about Clark, but powers like his come with an enormous responsibility. If he’s not careful, he could severely injure or even kill someone when he uses them.”

“Hence why you’re not on the football team,” noted Chloe, understanding. “Though I must say I’m not entirely ungrateful for your lack of other extracurriculars. The lunch menu isn’t gonna type itself,” she teased.

Clark just smiled.

“So who told you that you’re from Krypton?” she asked him. “How do you know they’re not just making stuff up?”

“Because the person who told me is Dr. Virgil Swann,” he answered.

“The billionaire supergenius? No way!”

“Way,” he replied, grinning. “One of his receiving stations picked up a transmission on the day of the meteor shower. It took him years to decrypt it, but he knows how to read Kryptonian. He’s the one who told me my real name and where I come from. He also….” He looked away.

“Also what?”

“He’s also the one who showed me where Krypton used to be, before it was destroyed. He tracked the signal all the way to a distant galaxy, but all he found was empty space. He told me I’m the last of my kind.”

“But there’s gotta be others like you,” she insisted.

Clark smiled bitterly. “That’s what I said too. He told me there was only one message. I’m all that’s left of my planet.”

There was silence for a few minutes before Chloe decided to change the subject to Clark’s childhood. “So I'll bet having a super-powered kid around the farm must have been a handful.”

Martha smiled. “There were times when we wondered just what exactly we’d signed on for. The majority of Clark’s abilities were present when we found him, like his strength, his speed and his durability, all of which grew in power as he developed. The others just sort of emerged over the last two and a half years. We only discovered his super-hearing yesterday.”

“Which worked out great for me,” Chloe deadpanned. She looked at Clark. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Lionel sooner. I turned to him in a moment of weakness, and the only reason I’m still in is because I can’t seem to get out.”

“It’s fine,” he said, reaching over and rubbing her arm to show his support. She closed her eyes and tried to convince herself that she and Clark were the only two people in the world at that moment.

The illusion was shattered when Jonathan said: “I hope you’re not planning on telling any of this to Lionel, Chloe.”

She smirked. “After the way he threatened me and my dad? He’ll be lucky if he gets a ‘screw you’ out of me. I’d sooner live in a cardboard box and eat spam for the rest of my life than tell him what I know. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“And you won’t tell anyone else?”

Chloe shook her head. “I promise.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” said Martha. “Welcome to the family, Chloe.”

She smiled.

“I’m gonna swing by Lex’s tomorrow,” said Clark. “See if he can do anything to help against his father.”

“Just be careful, Clark,” his mother cautioned. “We don’t know much control Lionel has over him after what happened at Belle-Reeve. It could be dangerous.”

“It’s worth a shot,” he said. “And I will be careful.”

Chloe smiled at him. “Thanks, Clark.”

“Anytime.”

The rest of the dinner conversation was devoted to tales of Clark’s early childhood, from lifting a five hundred pound bed when he was only three years old to stripping off all his clothes and climbing inside the oven trying to imitate the turkey they’d just had the night before. Fortunately Clark’s invulnerability had developed to the point where all he did was sweat in response to the heat, which had climbed to over four hundred degrees by the time the Kents found him. Martha recounted the tale with a healthy dose of laughter, although Chloe did detect signs of worrying in her voice. But then again, worrying was what mothers did.

When the last of their meal was done, Clark did the dishes in under a second, which drew a round of applause from Chloe and his parents.

“It may seem like a time-saver to you, but Einstein’s Theory of Relativity is true to the point where doing them at superspeed feels like it takes just as long as doing them the normal way,” he said. “I think I at least deserve a ‘thank you.’”

Chloe giggled at his mock display of not feeling appreciated, giving him a kiss on the lips as his reward. “Thank you, Clark,” she said before glancing at her watch. “I’d better get home.”

“Want me to run you there?” Clark offered, but Chloe shook her head.

“Even though I’m sure you could carry both me and my car all the way to my house without breaking a sweat, you gave me serious whiplash just carrying me here from your barn,” she explained. “Besides, a nice drive will give me the chance to think over some things I need to deal with by myself.”

“Alright then,” he said, giving her a kiss goodbye. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye. Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Kent!” she called before disappearing out the back door.

Clark stood there for a moment, smiling like he had all evening. Things would be so much easier with Chloe now that she knew the truth. He was sure of it.

He turned around to see his parents smiling at him. “We are so proud of you, Clark,” his mother said. “That was very brave of you to take such a risk. Your father and I are glad that everything worked out so well.”

“Just be careful from now on, son,” said Jonathan. “Now that Chloe knows your secret, someone might try to get it out of her. Now if you trust her not to tell anyone then so do your mother and I, but she’s in great danger of someone trying to force it from her against her will.”

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not going to happen. I'll make sure of it.”

“You can’t watch over her twenty-four hours a day, Clark,” Martha pointed out. “You barely rescued Pete from danger just yesterday. You’re putting them at risk.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t have told them?”

Jonathan shook his head. “No Clark, what we’re saying is that you need to be careful. Be on the look out for anything. We never know what Lionel might try.”

“I will,” promised Clark, giving each of his parents a hug.

“Now go to bed, son,” ordered Jonathan “You’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, dad,” he said, climbing the stairs to his room. “Good night.”

“Good night,” they called out in unison.

After Clark left, Jonathan turned to his wife. “Do you think he made the right decision?” he asked.

“Only time will tell. But he feels good about it. That’s all that matters right now.”

“I just don’t want him putting his friends in danger,” he explained. “Anyone who knows his secret is liable to be a target.”

“Chloe was already a target,” Martha pointed out. “Now she knows that she can turn to us for help. It’s best that she knows. And now Clark can be himself around her. She could be the one for him.”

“Like you said, sweetheart, only time will tell. Now let’s go to bed. This farm’s not gonna run itself.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “Just let Clark do the difficult stuff. Your heart isn’t what it used to be.”

“I refuse to be handicapped, Martha. I’m perfectly capable of running this farm the way I always have.”

“Let’s talk about it later, Jonathan. When Clark’s not listening.” Looking up, she whispered: “Go to bed, son.”

Deciding that he would ponder his mother’s seeming ability to know everything he did in the morning, Clark obeyed, returning his hearing to normal and closing his eyes.

And for the first time ever, Lana wasn’t the girl of his dreams.

Stranglehold Chapter Two: The Truth Shall Set You Free

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:11:19 GMT

Chapter Two.

“Chloe, what is it you wanted to show me?” Clark asked as they entered The Torch.

Shutting the door behind them, the blonde sighed. “Okay, so you remember last year when Lana and I got into a huge fight over her invading my personal space?”

“I seem to remember that being the first time I heard the words ‘Metropolis United Charities.’” Was that mirth she detected? Not quite the tone she had expected to come with such a statement.

“And I told you, Clark, I’ve let go of the whole farmboy espionage thing. Though I must admit, part of what intrigued me was that I couldn’t find any records of you before the meteor shower. It’s like you just… fell out of the sky.”

“Yeah, so when are you letting that go again?” Had it not been for the huge smirk on his face, Chloe would have curled up into the fetal position. She deserved that.

Rather than trying her best prenatal impression, however, Chloe laughed. “Just pleading my case before I throw myself upon the mercy of your court,” she explained.

“Well, the jury’s unanimous,” replied Clark. “Not guilty by reason of temporary insanity.”

“You!” Chloe punched him on the shoulder, smiling with satisfaction when she saw him flinch before her fist even struck. “Alright, I'll be the first to admit that love makes you do crazy things….” She trailed off, and the smile vanished from her face.

Clark’s eyes widened in concern. “Chloe?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she groaned, “I know you’re still not over Lana and—”

He pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he said. “Let’s not talk about Lana.”

That was one of those things that Chloe had grown to admire—no, to love—about Clark: his unfailing ability to tell her exactly what she needed to hear. Not that this was true all the time, but just like Clark had literally saved her from falling over the edge on several occasions, he always knew exactly what to say to bring her back just as she was about to plummet to her emotional doom. He wasn’t always there when she wanted him, but he never let her down when she really needed him.

“Thanks Clark,” she choked out, her voice betraying what she refused to let her eyes reveal. After a quiet sniffle, she was back in action. “But that’s sort of what this is about.” She slid her chair out of the way in favor of bending over instead. Whether she was conscious of it or not—though Clark certainly noticed—she looked like she was getting ready to be spanked for misbehaving.

‘She really is sorry,’ he realized.

Chloe, oblivious to Clark’s comparison of her to a naughty child, continued: “See, she was snooping through my files….”

And then Clark saw it. A picture of him in a tux, holding a blonde girl wearing a pink dress in his arms, dancing the night away. It had been taken at the Spring Formal, just before the tornadoes hit. Why did Chloe still have this on her computer?

“…and she found these,” she finished.

‘These?’ wondered Clark, before noticing the image below the picture: it was a navigation bar. One click of the mouse, and the picture from that day was replaced with another.

“Chloe, why do you still have all these?”

She stood up, looked him square in the eye and said: “Because I still love you, Clark.”

He said nothing.

Taking that as the signal that she now had the floor, Chloe continued: “I don’t think it’s any secret that I’ve had these feelings for you for a while, Clark. You even… tried to reciprocate that night.” She pointed at the photos. “But I was never the girl of your dreams….” Her eyes returned to him, and she stared, praying that, just once, Clark Kent would open up to her.

“Chloe…” he breathed, “why are you telling me all this?”

She chuckled bitterly; she had been expecting him to say that. “Because if I hadn’t, Lionel Luthor would have.”

His eyes widened. “Are you still involved with him?”

“I’m trying to get out!” she screamed suddenly, not even bothering to wonder why Clark doubled over, clutching his ears. He stood up the next moment anyway. “But you know how it is with the Luthors! They’re worse than ‘La Familia!’ He threatened to cancel my Daily Planet column and fire my dad and to tell you that I was acting like a stalker and… and….” She started hyperventilating.

“Chloe!” Clark shouted, gripping the near-hysterical girl by her shoulders. “Calm down. I’m gonna get you out of this. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

The blonde reporter blubbered something incomprehensible before collapsing into his arms, burrowing her tear-stained face into his warm, broad chest. Clark held her tight, running his large hands up and down her back and murmuring soothing phrases into her ear, telling her that as long as he was here, she would be safe. Eventually the heaving stopped and she raised her reddened eyes to Clark’s frosty blue ones. She had never seen eyes the same color as his—but then again Clark Kent was one of a kind.

“Thanks, Clark,” she whispered so that her voice wouldn’t crack. “I-I’m sorry for everything.”

“I forgive you,” he whispered back.

And then it happened. Memories of the last year and a half were suddenly shrouded in ether, and the only thing either of them could think about was how familiar this felt—how right this felt. They looked at each other, not as friends, but as something more. Soft wisps of hot air filled the increasingly small space between them, bringing to their noses the familiar smell of mint. Heads tilted and eyes closed and warm lips parted as they relived that night—remembered how perfect everything had been before—

There was a knock at the door.

Two gasps of panic were all it took to suck every ounce of romantic atmosphere out of the room. Clark was the first to snap out of his daze and strode over to open the door, revealing….

“Lana?”

‘Of course,’ lamented Chloe. ‘It’s not a party until the girl of your loved one’s dreams crashes it.’ She looked up, wishing that she could see right through the ceiling. “Why do you hate me?” she whispered.

“Who hates you, Chloe?”

If it were anyone but Clark, Chloe would have found it highly curious that he could hear her whisper from more than ten feet away, not to mention know exactly what she was whispering. But she had promised to let it go….

She chuckled innocently and shrugged. “You know, God, Allah, Barney the Dinosaur… whoever it is that’s responsible for landing me in this sci-fi soap opera I call a life.”

“Well I don’t see anyone in felt costumes busting into song, so you can rule out number three.”

Everyone but Lana froze. None of them had said that.

Clark stepped away from the door, allowing Lana and the mystery speaker inside.

“Everyone,” the brunette announced, “This is Adam. Adam, that’s Chloe, and this is Clark.”

“How’s it going?” Clark greeted and extended his hand, which Adam shook.

“Not bad. Yourself?”

“Well, my eyes have never been better,” he answered. “Though they are still a little sore.”

“Then I hope you’ve been seeing some good sights,” said Adam.

To Chloe’s great surprise—and secret pleasure—Clark gave her a sidelong glance, as though trying to send a message with his eyes saying: “We’ll pick this up later.”

“Oh, I’ve been seeing a few.” The way he smiled when he said that….

Chloe decided that now was not the time to be making goo-goo eyes and grinning like a lovesick idiot at the guy who was supposed to be her best friend—especially not in front of her roommate, who just happened to have been the object of that same best friend’s desires for so long she felt like she didn’t have a chance when she was around. She cleared her throat and stepped closer to the group.

“Uh, hi, Adam!” she said to ingratiate herself, extending her hand just as Clark had. Adam, in a move that surprised everyone, raised the hand slowly, skillfully to his face, where he planted a delicate kiss on the back.

Clark was the first to react. “Uh, Adam, what are you doing?”

“Seeing which of you two would react first,” he answered, pointing between Clark and Lana. “I also wanted to gauge how close the three of you are. Kissing her hand allowed me to do both.” He turned to Chloe. “By the way, kudos on the strawberry lotion. People think it only works on redheads, but it smells great on yellow roses too.”

Despite the awkwardness of the whole situation—or perhaps because of it—Chloe couldn’t help but smile. “Uh, thanks,” she said. “So what are you, other than a gentleman of course?” He laughed. “Where did you and Lana meet?”

“Physical therapy,” he said. “I helped guide her through the rougher waters.”

“Are you a therapist?”

Adam shook his head. “Fellow patient. Had a beam collapse on my leg five months ago, trying to save my parents from a burning building. They died.”

It was then that everyone noticed just how incredibly frank and honest Adam was about… well, everything. It certainly was a change from the evasive, secretive personalities they were used to encountering.

“I’m so sorry,” said Chloe.

“Don’t be,” Adam insisted. “I’ve moved on. They wouldn’t want me to be depressed.”

“Well that’s good to hear.”

Adam smiled.

Lana cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Well, it was nice seeing you guys. I have to go show Adam the Talon.”

“See ya!” Adam called as Lana practically dragged him out of the room.

“Bye!” Clark and Chloe called together. As soon as the door was shut, they faced each other.

“Uh…” began Clark awkwardly. “Where were we?”

An equally flabbergasted Chloe was about to answer when the bell rang. “I swear, somebody’s sitting behind a desk somewhere stroking a cat, watching video feeds and pushing buttons that cause these sudden interruptions,” she vented, amusing Clark with her affinity for allusions. He smiled. “Pick this up later?” she nearly pleaded.

“Why don’t you swing by the farm this afternoon? It’s been a while since we hung out.”

Her resultant smile was almost shy, a trait that had never been used to describe the (in?)famously outspoken Chloe Sullivan. But then again, she was sort of walking a tightrope here, and the future of their relationship depended on whether or not she kept her balance. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Clark had been her safety net so many times in the past. Still, she was nervous.

“Yeah, it has,” she replied quietly, another adjective that didn’t quite fit her usual personality. “See you then.” Deciding that it was best to end it there, she hugged him one more time, wiping the last of her tears on his shoulder before whispering, “Thank you, Clark.”

Wrapping his arms a little tighter around her, Clark replied: “Anytime.”

And the best part about that statement, thought Chloe as she inhaled deeply, letting the scent of his cologne tickle the insides of her nose, was that it was true. After all, Clark Kent never lied.

“Bye,” she said as they separated, walking past him and out the door.

“Bye.”
--

Jonathan and Martha Kent sat at the kitchen table, going over bills. It had always been the one low point of the month for them. Money had never been an object between them, but lately they’d barely been able to break even. Forgoing luxury and not being able to support one’s family were two completely different realities, and although since the beginning their relationship had always been the former, lately things had been drifting more and more towards the latter.

They hated this time because it was the only time they spent together where they ever really fought. Arguments would start over how the numbers in one column weren’t enough to balance out the numbers contained in another, at which point Jonathan would reassure Martha that they had always managed to at least break even before. Martha would then point out that what had happened in the past would not guarantee the future, that even if you drop a stone a hundred times and it falls to the floor ninety nine of those times, you never know if it might fly to the ceiling on the hundredth try. He would then ask her where she got that analogy, to which she would reply, “David Hume,” and he would then make a snide comment about her highly educated background and how her father had raised her to be such a high class woman, which would inevitably lead back to a subject that seemed to figure into nearly all of their conversations: the Luthors.

It always went back to the Luthors. Clark was friends with Lex, and Martha had worked for Lionel the year before, which was the only other time in their relationship where the fighting and arguing seemed to be almost constant. Jonathan was convinced that the Luthors were evil incarnate, although to be fair, he wasn’t exactly alone in his opinion. Besides Martha, the only person who dared to disagree with him was Clark. Their son—even after learning of his alien heritage, they refused to think of him as anything else—had always tried to see the good in everyone, a trait he clearly got from Martha. Of all his superhuman endowments, the ability to always maintain an optimistic view of the situation as well as the people involved, no matter what the circumstances, seemed to be Clark’s greatest gift of all. Being good people, the Kents sought to nurture this quality in Clark, to ensure that he grew up to be a man who acted for the sake of others as the ultimate means of fulfilling his own desires. It was what kept them going in spite of these fights. The radiant goodness they saw and wanted to protect in their son was what motivated them to keep on living.

But even they occasionally lost sight of things.

“…how you could even stand to work with such a man!” Jonathan was yelling when Clark came in. “To think that he would have the audacity to suggest—”

“And the influence to back it up, don’t forget about that,” Martha reminded him.

“It still makes me sick that he thinks he could just control a person like that!” he shouted, unaware of his son’s presence. “Gabe’s worked at that plant for years! To use him as a pawn in some twisted chess game with our son, it just….” He stopped when he noticed Clark. “Oh, hi son,” he greeted, smiling.

Clark didn’t respond in kind. “I assume you guys are talking about Chloe?” he asked so accusingly it might as well have been a statement. It was his own fault, though—he didn’t have to tell them about his falling out with her yesterday. At least now he had good news on that front. He sat down, dropping his backpack to the floor by his chair.

“What Lionel did to her is wrong, Clark,” Jonathan said. “Blackmailing her like that—”

“Was the worst mistake he ever made,” interrupted Clark, his eyes flashing red as he slammed his fist on the table, thankfully controlling both of his powers enough that he didn’t splinter the wood or set the kitchen on fire.

“Clark, calm down!” his mother urged as she rushed to his side and put both her hands on his shoulders, counting on the fact that her relationship with him was far more effective at restraining the young Kryptonian than any other kind of strength.

“Sorry, it’s just—she wouldn’t be in that situation if it weren’t for what happened with me and Lana last year.”

“Clark, you can’t blame yourself,” insisted Martha. It was a sentence she had repeated many times over the last couple of years, but it still held the same value to Clark, who sighed.

“I know that Mom, but I can’t help feeling that I'm responsible. I mean, if I hadn’t been such a coward and just told her that Lana and I were together, she wouldn’t have made a deal with him.”

“The choice was still hers,” she pointed out, releasing him and stepping back over to stand by her husband’s chair.

“That’s true, but I still shouldn’t have put her in a position to make it.”

“Son, you couldn’t have known,” said Jonathan. “You can’t beat yourself up about this.”

Clark sighed, still not completely agreeing, but eager to get on to the more exciting matter at hand.

“I do hope you two will be able to patch things up,” said Martha.

“Actually,” Clark replied, smiling, “She’s coming over later so we can talk about some things.”

“What kind of things?”

He grinned wider. “We… kinda had a moment today.”

“What kind of moment?”

Clark just kept smiling.

“Clark…” she breathed, “Do you mean you have feelings for her again?”

He nodded.

Martha gasped, drawing a hand to her chest and holding onto the counter as though she actually believed that she would faint. “But I thought you were in love with Lana?”

“I was,” he answered. “But today with Chloe, I felt something. Something I think was always there, but I never really noticed it after the Spring Formal freshman year. I was too busy with Lana to notice that Chloe still cares about me as more than a friend.” He smiled. “And I think I feel it too.”

Fully recovered from her moment of shock, Martha rushed over to him and enveloped her son in a hug. “Clark, that’s wonderful!”

“There’s more,” he said as they resumed their original positions. “I think I wanna tell her.”

“Tell her what?” asked Jonathan, even though he already knew the answer by the tone with which Clark had announced it.

“My secret.”

The Kent parents exchanged a glance. Before they could say anything, Clark continued: “I know what you’re thinking. But I finally realized why it didn’t work out with Lana.”

Jonathan took a deep breath before replying: “And what makes you think this time will be any different?”

“It’s different with Chloe,” he insisted. “All the meteors have ever done to Lana are make her life harder. She lost her parents in the meteor shower, not to mention she’s had half of Belle-Reeve after her more than once. And before he tried to kill me, she was the first person to jump to Van McNulty’s defense when he started assassinating people who had been infected by the meteors. I don’t think she’d look at me the same if she realized that I’m the reason her parents are dead and that all those people tried to kill her.”

“Clark you can’t—”

Clark raised his hands. “Let me finish,” he said, and his father motioned for him to continue. He did. “But it’s not like that with Chloe. She’s fascinated by the meteors. She created the Wall of Weird, and she only digs into these people’s lives because she’s trying to help. And even when some of them did try and kill her, she didn’t take it personally. Chloe wouldn’t be freaked out the way Lana would if she knew my secret. She’d probably think it’s cool.”

Jonathan looked at him sternly. “And don’t you think that if you tell her this, you’ll be giving her exactly what Lionel’s been looking for?”

“She won’t tell him,” Clark said as though nothing could make him believe otherwise. “Not when she knows what I can do to protect her. She won’t have any reason to keep digging into my past either if she already knows. That means she’s not gonna go off and make any deals like this again.”

Before Jonathan could say anything else, Martha spoke: “Well, it’s your decision to make, Clark. Just realize that once you tell her, there’s no going back. You’d be putting her at risk.”

“She’s already in danger because I wasn’t completely honest with her,” he argued. “This is the only way to stop it.”

Martha opened her mouth to say something when someone knocked on the door. Clark stood up and answered it.

“Chloe!” he greeted, truly happy to see her.

“Hey Clark,” she replied as he opened the door and ushered her inside. “Hi Mr. and Mrs. Kent.”

Martha was the only one out of the pair to respond. “Hello, Chloe,” she said as though she were greeting her own daughter. And if Clark was really serious about letting her in on his secret, that may very well be true someday.

Growing uneasy at the intensity of Mr. Kent’s stare, Chloe turned back to Clark. “Why don’t we go out to your barn?” she suggested; then, not wanting to admit the fact that she was extremely uncomfortable here, added: “We can watch the sunset there.”

“Sure,” he agreed, secretly wanting to escape the awkward tension as well.

“Be back in time for dinner!” his mother called out just before the door shut behind them. Speaking of which, she was probably going to have to set an extra place at the table tonight.

She turned to her husband, who sat glaring at the space where the two teenagers had just been. “Is everything alright, honey?”

“I just hope Clark knows what he’s doing,” he said.

“We’ve raised Clark to make his own decisions, and his judgment is usually good in situations like this,” she said, trying to reassure him. “Besides, he told Pete last year, and that’s worked out for the best.”

“He doesn’t want to have a romantic relationship with Pete,” Jonathan pointed out as though that made a difference. “He’s never gotten this close to anybody before.”

“Except Khyla,” she reminded him. “She knew his secret and she praised him as a hero of her people.”

“And we all know how well that turned out,” he snapped, the sudden venom in his tone taking Martha by surprise.

“Are you worried he’ll get too close and lose her?”

He sighed and looked up at her, telling her everything with his eyes.

Taking a seat, she scooted up close to Jonathan, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We just have to hope it doesn’t come to that,” she said. “We both know how devoted Clark is to protecting the people he loves. And with powers like his, it says a lot about the son we’ve raised if that’s what he chooses to use them for. We should be proud that he’s made this decision all on his own.”

Jonathan sighed again, only this time he smiled. “I know,” he said. “And I trust Clark. It’s just that sometimes I worry a bit too much for my own good. One of the many things I love about you is that you’re always there to reassure me that what our son is doing is the right thing.”

“And I love that you’re always looking out for him,” she replied. “He’s becoming a man now. He needs to make his own decisions. And we just have to trust that they’re the right ones, even though they might not always be. We can’t keep him here forever. He’s meant for bigger and better things, no matter how much any of us tries to deny it. We have to trust him.”

They stood and Jonathan wrapped his arms around his wife in a hug, drawing her close. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispered close to her ear. “I know.”
--

Clark smiled as he heard what his parents said after he left. Being the ultimate eavesdropper did have its advantages.

“What’cha smilin’ about?” Chloe asked with an easy informality that confirmed just how close they were to each other.

“Just thinking about how grateful I am to have my parents,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He just didn’t mention what had suddenly made him so sentimental. But if all went according to plan, he wouldn’t have to leave anything out anymore.

“You really did hit the parental jackpot,” she agreed, moving closer to him as they continued to walk side by side. “I can’t imagine how wonderful it must be having both of them in your life.” She frowned.

It didn’t take any sort of superhuman empathy for Clark to realize what was troubling her. “Chloe, your mother didn’t abandon you,” he reassured her. “She must have had her reasons for leaving.”

She stopped walking, and Clark could see tears welling in her eyes. “Yeah, there are plenty of good reasons why a parent suddenly decides to drop off the face of the planet. I’ve been looking for her since I figured out how to read a phonebook, Clark. I can’t find her.” She looked down.

“Hey,” he said softly, raising her chin with his finger. “You will. You just have to keep looking.”

She sniffled. “Thanks Clark,” she whispered.

They resumed walking. “So where were we earlier?” she asked, praying that for once his answer wouldn’t be evasive and mysterious.

It wasn’t. “You were telling me how much you still love me.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “And I was still waiting for you to tell me how you feel.”

Waiting for him to answer wasn’t as terrifying as she thought it would be. Not when the way he smiled and the look of passion in his eyes gave her the answer she wanted so badly it physically hurt.

“I took you to the Spring Formal for a reason,” he said while reaching over to hold her hand, which she offered without hesitation. “I just lost sight of it when you pulled the ‘friends’ card. Now I’m not blind anymore.”

They were just arriving at the barn. It was hard to believe that just yesterday they’d had a massive blowout here that nearly cost them their friendship.

“Well that’s good to hear,” she replied. “Now you can see me in all my glory.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Amazingly, Chloe didn’t blush. “Okay, the gutter is so not the place for the mind of the guy I fell in love with,” she chided, shoving him. If only she knew that she couldn’t budge him unless he chose to move. “Although….” Her eyes traveled up and down the length of his admittedly Olympian-quality body. “You never know; someday I might actually mean it that way.”

Kryptonite wasn’t Clark’s only weakness. It seemed that suggestive comments, especially ones from people he didn’t expect to utter them, brought on levels of extreme discomfort as well. But then again, embarrassment was the Achilles’ heel of any teenager, no matter what their species. The same blood that gave him such incredible abilities was also what betrayed his vulnerability to sexual innuendo as it flooded his cheeks.

“Let’s not go there,” he said awkwardly. “We haven’t even decided if we’re gonna be more than just friends yet.”

“I’d like to be,” she responded as she stepped up close to him. “If you’ll let me.”

“I’d like that too,” Clark admitted, staring passionately into her eyes as he gripped her shoulders. “There’s just something you need to know about me first.”

“Oh please don’t tell me you’re Gay!” Chloe howled, and Clark wasn’t sure if she was joking or serious.

He raised his eyebrows. “If I was, would I be interested in dating you?”

She chuckled. “I guess not. Okay then, what is it?”

“Chloe, what would you say if I were to tell you that some of your research into me wasn’t completely without merit?”

“What do you mean?”

“What would you say if I told you that I’m not exactly from around here, that you can’t find any record of my being born because where I come from I’m not even sure if they keep those sorts of records?”

“I would say that you’d better stop dealing in hypotheticals and level with me.”

He smiled. “Then I have something to show you too.”

Stranglehold Chapter One: Lying in Deceit

Tue, 06 May 2008 06:01:46 GMT

Here's chapter one. Still using a lot of canon for this. It gets more original, I swear.

Pete Ross sat at the bar of the Talon, surrounded by women. It was his favorite place to be.

“And that's the way I pulled myself out of the compactor and got away,” he said to the crowd of fangirls. They all let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh my God. That's the bravest thing I've ever heard,” said one of the girls.

“Well, you know, if I didn't do something fast, I'd be Spam in a can, so….” He let the sentence hang there.

“Well, I'm glad you're okay,” another girl replied, kissing him on the cheek. “Call me,” she said as the group started to walk away.

“I will do that,” Pete said smokily.

“I have a feeling I'll be hearing this story for a long time.”

Pete burst out laughing and spun around in his chair to face Clark, who stood behind him. “Busted,” he said. “But, you know, what can I say? Chicks dig a hero.”

“Uh huh.”

“Hope you don't mind I'm bending the truth a little bit.”

Clark chuckled. “Pete, look who you're talking to. The master truth-bender. Besides, after everything you've done for me, it's the least I can do.” He grimaced, then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“What's the matter?”

“My eyes are just adjusting. I think I need a new prescription.”

“Almost back to normal, huh?”

He turned around to find Chloe standing there. She looked… well.

“Chloe,” he said flatly before walking away.

Pete whistled after he left. “Wow,” he said. “Cold shoulder much?”

“It’s like he’s from an ice planet,” she nearly whimpered.

Deciding not to smirk at the completely true statement, Pete put an arm around her shoulder. “You wanna talk?”

She sniffed and nodded. He led her to one of the tables and they both sat down. “What happened?”

Chloe was quiet for several moments. Finally she spoke: “Pete, you have to promise not to tell anybody.”

“Scout’s honor.”

She laughed. “We both know Clark’s the Big Blue Boy Scout,” she said mirthfully. “But thanks.” She took a deep breath before saying: “I made a deal with Lionel Luthor.”

“Whoa!” Pete nearly shouted before saying, more quietly this time: “Is that why Clark’s mad at you?”

“What do you think?” she snapped. “It happened last year, before Clark disappeared off to Metropolis all summer. We had this huge fight, and like every woman scorned I wanted to do the one thing that would hurt him the most.” She looked down. “I’ve been trying to get out ever since.”

“Sounds like you’re in pretty heavy.”

She nodded. “He’s blackmailing me, using my column at the Planet and my dad’s employment at his company to manipulate me into doing whatever he wants.”

“Which is?”

“Researching Clark.”

Pete’s eyes grew wide, and he understood. “So Clark found out somehow, and he wasn’t happy about it.”

“I don’t know how he found out,” she said. “But we had this big blowout at his barn earlier today.” She looked up at him fearfully. “I think this might be the end of our friendship, Pete.”

“Don’t say that,” he insisted. “You two just need to talk now that everything’s out in the open.”

She looked down to where her hands were folded in her lap. “Not everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, vow of secrecy time again. Do you promise not to tell anyone?”

“I swear.”

“Do you remember all those photos of Clark and me that I supposedly got rid of after the Spring Formal?” she asked, and Pete nodded. “Well… the truth is that I still have them.”

“What?!”

“Shhh!” she ordered. “Not so loud. Do you want everybody to know?”

“Sorry. So what’s the big deal?”

“Lionel knows about them too. He’s threatening to send them to Clark if I don’t keep working for him.”

“So why don’t you just tell him?”

She blinked. “Say what?”

“Show Clark the pictures. That way Lionel can’t hold them over you. The truth shall set you free, Chloe Sullivan.”

“But there’d still be the issue of my Daily Planet column and my dad’s job.”

“You can cross that bridge when you come to it. If you just tell Clark about the pictures, it’ll be one less thing to worry about.”

“I don’t know….”

“Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” Pete remarked. Ever since he’d met her, Chloe had always been after whatever source of information she could find. Even though she didn’t actually know everything, that didn’t stop her from wanting to.

“Look,” he said. “You still love Clark, right? I mean obviously you do, or else you wouldn’t have those pictures. Now you and I both know there’s nothing sadder than unrequited love. You at least owe it to him to tell him how you feel.”

She looked up. “You really think so?”

“Quit tryin’ to make this my decision,” Pete practically ordered her. “You got yourself into this mess, and you’re the only one who can get yourself out. Now I may be your mechanic, but you’ve still gotta drive the car.”

“You’re right,” said Chloe, her strength suddenly returning. “I'll show him tomorrow at school.” She stood to leave, pausing long enough to say: “Thanks, Pete.”

He smiled. “No problem. What are friends for?”

“Repeating that exact sentence apparently,” she quipped, and they both laughed. “Later, Pete.”

“See ya.”
--

Clark was sitting in his loft, staring out at the sky. Out of all the things that had changed in the past two and a half years, this was one activity that remained constant. He no longer wondered why he found it so interesting—it was where he came from, after all. Looking at the vast expanse of tiny apertures that dotted the night sky made him feel at peace. After the ship had been destroyed last year, it was one of his few remaining connections to Krypton.

He was reluctant to call it home, however, even in his mind. Krypton was his place of birth, yes, but he had been raised on Earth. Jonathan and Martha Kent were the people who had seen him through fourteen years of growing up, so they were his real parents as far as he was concerned. Jor-El may have given him life, but that didn’t grant him the right to control the way he lived it. A good parent raises their child to make their own decisions—they don’t try to decide their child’s destiny.

It was here, in this loft, gazing at the stars from which he had come, that Clark had made some of the biggest decisions in his life. It was here, in front of this window, just last year, that he had finally took a shot with Lana Lang, the girl of his dreams. He had been so excited at the time—but it wasn’t meant to last. He didn’t trust her to keep his secret. How could he, when he was the reason her parents were dead?

It was down there, in the driveway where his gaze had now shifted, that he and Chloe had gotten into a fight that had nearly destroyed their friendship. She had been so angry at him, and all he could offer her was more vague excuses and promises to get back to her later. It was that fight that had driven her to turn to Lionel Luthor. If he had only told her the truth about him and Lana, she wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.

It was here, in this barn, that he and Chloe had gotten into another fight just earlier today. He had confronted her with the truth, and she had met his righteous indignation with her own. She had turned the tables on him. She had reminded him that the guilt was his. It wasn’t like she had outright accused him of putting her in a situation where her only choice was to turn to Lionel, but he didn’t need X-Ray vision to see that he had broken her heart last year and that this whole thing was his fault.

Honesty. His parents had raised him to always tell the truth. But people keep secrets for a reason. Even they understood that. George Washington may not have been able to tell a lie, and Mark Twain may have been capable of lying yet chose not to, but Clark doubted that either of those famously truthful people had come from another planet. The world wasn’t ready for the truth. Neither was Lana.

But was Chloe? He had thought about telling her many times before—only to have her say something that reminded him why he was keeping this a secret in the first place. He had nearly lost Pete as a friend when he told him, and even though things were great between them now, he could tell that his best friend looked at him differently than he used to. Part admiration, part envy. That was the look he saw on Pete’s face every time the subject of his powers or his extraterrestrial heritage came up. Part of Pete was impressed by the fact that his best friend was an alien—he made that very obvious—but Clark knew that another part of his best friend was extremely jealous.

How would Chloe react if she knew that her research into him had not been in vain? That he was an alien from another planet, apparently sent here to conquer Earth? The part of her that had created the Wall of Weird would probably think it was unbelievably cool. But her investigative reporter side would want to share his secret with the world. He couldn’t risk that.

Still, would she have gone to Lionel in the first place if she’d known? He knew Chloe too well to think that she was researching him entirely against her will. The girl was curious—it was her defining trait. If he had been honest with her—about everything—would she have betrayed him like that?

His thoughts were interrupted when his vision blurred and he took off his glasses to find his surroundings as clear as they’d always been. He smirked. Only a Kryptonian could recover from total blindness in less than twenty-four hours.

“Looks like you're back to normal.”

Clark turned around, smiling when he saw Lana there.

“Hey, Lana. Um, I'm glad you're here.” He stepped closer to her. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday in the truck.”

“Right, I, uh, wanted to talk to you about that too.”

“I was way out of line. I was feeling vulnerable, but I don't expect—”

She cut him off. “Clark, um… The reason I pulled away is that I… I met someone at the hospital.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“And I'm not sure how I feel about him.”

“Well, I mean, the fact you're telling me about him means you already know,” he offered.

“Maybe you're right,” she replied. “But if, um, if you and I are going to be friends, I-I didn't want you to find out from somebody else.”

Clark nodded solemnly, resigning himself to his fate. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “Yeah.”

Sensing that Clark wanted to be alone right now, and feeling the same way herself, Lana said: “Well, uh, I should get back to the Talon.” She turned and started to leave.

“Hey, Lana?”

She halted, then turned around slowly to face him.

“Thanks for being honest.”

She nodded. “Well, it's the only way our relationship can last, right?”

He smiled, though it didn’t last as he put his newly discovered power of super-hearing to use, only to hear the one thing other than Kryptonite that could cause him pain: the sound of another person’s anguish. Lana was crying.

He was the one who had reduced her to this, he realized. He was the one who had broken her heart earlier that year, when he told her that, even though he had tried so hard to be the right guy for her, he could never make himself fit that role. He had told himself—and Lana—that he was protecting her, but the truth was that he was protecting himself. He was protecting his secret. People wear armor for a reason—and inside that armor, there’s only room for one.

Could he have spared her this, if he had told her? The question was pointless now. The damage had already been done. He couldn’t go back and rebuild a bridge that he himself had burned.

Was it too late for Chloe? Was he destined to lose each of the people he loved because he couldn’t trust them to keep his secret? Would he eventually end up pushing them all away? He hoped that that wouldn’t be the case, but he knew a sign of the future when he saw one. If he didn’t tell Chloe the truth—about everything—he would lose her forever, just like he had lost Lana.

He sighed and looked back up at the stars. Even with powers as amazing as his, sometimes being an alien really sucked.
--

Chloe took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never. It was either tell him the truth, or lose him as a friend forever.

“Clark!” she called, rushing up to where he stood by his locker.

He didn’t look quite so upset to see her as he had yesterday, but she did notice that his expression seemed to convey a feeling of thinly disguised guilt. ‘He feels responsible for this,’ she realized. That notion didn’t make her feel any better.

“Uh, hi Chloe,” he greeted awkwardly.

“Do you have a minute to talk?”

He didn’t say anything, but nodded.

“I just wanted to say that… I’m sorry for everything,” she told him. “I’m sorry I went to Lionel, I’m sorry I looked into your past in the first place, and I’m sorry that I let my feelings for you get in the way of being your friend.”

He smiled, looking at the same time like he was trying to ignore a gaping hole in his chest. It was the smile of a wounded man who tries to deny the fact that he’s dying. “I forgive you,” he said.

As much as she hated clichés, Chloe did indeed feel as though an incredible weight had been taken from her shoulders. But the knot in her stomach returned when she realized that the burden had somehow been transferred to Clark.

“How long before your next class?” she asked, even though the question was unnecessary as she had his entire schedule memorized. Hey, she was his best friend—it wasn’t like she was stalking him or anything. Speaking of which….

“I have this period off,” he answered. “Why?”

She inhaled, delaying her answer until her lungs were ready to explode. “I have something to show you,” she said.