Chlark Fanfic: Crisis II - The Healing
What’s up, lovely people? :-)
Yes, after 3 years, 4 months & 2 days since the last update on this story was posted, I’m back with the beginning of the long-awaited sequel. Thank you all so much for your patience, I really appreciate it and hope I won’t let you down!
Without much ado, let’s get on with it. We begin where we left off; with Chloe & Clark adjusting to the first day of their new living arrangements, and on their way to school. Enjoy! And as always, Feedback = Love.
Awesome banner by ellashy - thanks, babes!
Title: Crisis II: The Healing
Author: BabyDee1
Pairing: Chlark/Kaloe
Rating: PG for now, NC-17 later
Warnings: Sequel to Crisis, which deals with disturbing themes
Timeline: Season 2-3 (Exodus - Exile; Clark’s RedK Summer & beyond)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics
Summary: Following the devastating events of Crisis, Clark and Chloe attempt to rebuild their friendship against all odds.
Feedback: …would be appreciated. :)
Read origin story, Crisis, from the beginning here.
Final chapter can be found here.
Crisis II: The Healing
Chapter 1
She had expected school to feel somewhat different, given her new living circumstances; but to her surprise it had just been a typical day.
.
Chloe hummed to herself as she packed her books into her bag. It was only just now beginning to feel a bit strange as she prepared to head off to the Farm; she couldn’t quite think of it as ‘home’, wasn’t sure if she ever would. But it was the best option she had until the end of the year, when she joined her father in Wisconsin. She could stick it out for a few months.
She stepped out of The Torch and jumped slightly as she saw Clark waiting for her by the door. “Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yeah, but…” she glanced around to make sure no-one was listening, then she continued. “…I thought you’d have already made your way on foot.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t leave you to come home on your own.”
“I wouldn’t have been on my own, I’d have been on the bus.”
“I guess. Still, I’m more than happy to wait for you.” He paused. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s fine. I appreciate it.” She locked The Torch door, and they went outside to where their school bus was waiting.
***
The school bus dropped them off at the usual place.
They began the walk back to the Farm. It was a fairly long walk; just under a mile, not a distance she was used to taking on foot, but she hadn’t had a car in a long time, so she’d had to adjust to her new circumstances. Of course, Clark could pick her up and get her to the front door in seconds, but she was still very wary of him touching her and would rather walk a far greater distance than have his hands on her again.
She glanced over at him. Their conversation this morning about his reluctance to express his opinions to his parents was still at the forefront of her mind, and she was keen to get back to it. He, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to talk about anything else but that. A small frisson of sympathy welled up in her. As a writer, she had interviewed a number of people from adoptive families about various things, and the one thing she had noticed about them was their driving need to succeed. It was almost as if they somehow felt they had to justify the existence that their parents had given them; make their presence worthwhile.
Occasionally there was the odd child who rebelled and asserted their individuality, usually through questionable fashion choices and a profession as far away from what their parents would have wanted for them. But never in all her years had she interviewed someone who’d resorted to the use of a Class A drug in order to speak honestly and openly with their parents because they feared disappointing them.
At least, she assumed the red kryptonite had that effect, based on Clark’s attitude when he was on it.
“What’s it like?” she asked suddenly. He turned to her with a questioning look. “The redK in your system?” she clarified.
Clark pondered briefly. “It’s an emotional painkiller,” he said at last. “It makes everything…hurt less.”
“But it doesn’t take the pain away completely?”
He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.”
She paused. “Do you…do you feel guilty for the horrible things you do when it affects you?”
He frowned. “At the time no; it doesn’t seem to matter as much,” he explained. “And it makes it easier for me to do things I usually wouldn’t.”
“Like what?”
“Everything. Spending money I know my parents don’t have, simply because I want something for myself; telling them out loud that I sometimes feel stifled feel by their upbringing; using my abilities openly because I don’t want to have to hide who I really am…” He paused. “Pushing boundaries. Touching you when I knew you didn’t want me to.”
“Like in the desert?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“But you did it to save me,” she reasoned.
He gave her a sidelong glance. “I still scared you half out of your mind, didn’t I?”
A vivid image of herself determinedly pressing a sharp stone to her wrist surfaced in her mind, followed by the memory of Clark grabbing her arms to restrain her. She didn’t want to make excuses for his behaviour, but…
“If you hadn’t been wearing the ring that day,” she began hesitantly, “Would you have come to the Torch to confront me about what I did to you?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“So the RedK makes you…” She searched for the right word - “…uninhibited?”
“Pretty much. I’m sorry I scared you that day. I didn’t want to, but…”
“I was going off the rails, and I needed an intervention,” she admitted. “I know that now. I mean, I almost drowned you…”
“Yeah, but…” he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “It all comes back to you only hurting me because I hurt you first.”
“That doesn’t make what I did to you okay,” she said gently.
“True. But still, it was hypocritical of me to challenge you on your behaviour, knowing that I’d led to your actions. But I was so worried that you were losing yourself, Chloe. I had to do something.”
“Hence, the ring,” she surmised.
“He nodded. “Hence the ring.”
She remembered his reluctance to take it off that day in the Torch. He’d found it easier to hand her back the green stone that could kill him than to remove the glowing red ring from his finger.
“What happens when you take it off?” she asked, and he gave a slow shake of his head.
“All the pain…floods back,” he said quietly. “And it feels even worse than before.”
“Is that why you kept it on all the time you were in Metropolis?”
He nodded again. “I felt responsible for the death of my little brother or sister, and I just couldn’t deal with that level of pain. The only time I took it off was after I…” he trailed off, but her mind had no trouble filling in the blanks. After he’d raped her.
“Even in my drug-enhanced state, I knew I’d crossed a line,” he whispered brokenly. “I went to a phone booth and called my Mom, but I was so ashamed of what I’d done, I couldn’t even speak.”
Chloe remembered that day all too well. After the unexpected attack, she’d gone to inform his parents of his whereabouts. She had no idea how, but somehow they’d managed to persuade him to come home. Maybe one day she’d get that story out of him.
“Is it addictive?” she asked. “The redK?”
“It has the potential to be extremely so.”
Her hand hovered unperceptively over her pocket containing the lead box with the green stone inside.
So how do you manage to stay away?” she queried.
“It’s difficult.” He uttered a harsh sound. “Actually, that’s an understatement. It takes every ounce of strength I possess not to seek out the pleasure and release of a redK hit, especially after having had it on for months at a stretch.” He sighed heavily. “It’s a daily struggle, staying away from it. I just…take one day at a time.”
“So it is like a Class A drug?”
“I guess it has the same type of effect; yeah.”
Her hand tightened on her pocket. “Would you ever use it again?” she asked. “Voluntarily?”
He stared into her eyes and shook his head. “No. Never,” he replied honestly. “Not after what I did to you when I was wearing it.”
“But if it’s as addictive as you say…”
“I’m never going near it again,” he said firmly. “Ever. If you even think I might be under its influence, you know how to stop me.”
“Yeah, about that…” she dug the lead box out of her pocket and handed it to him, her hand trembling slightly.
He stared warily at the box, then glanced up at her. “You’re giving it back to me? Why?”
She shrugged. “Like you said, you can take it away from me anytime you want.”
He shook his head. “You hold onto it,” he said softly. “I’ll never hurt you again, Chloe; you have my word.”
“I wish I could believe you,” she whispered, remembering just how easily he disarmed her the last time.
“You keep that as close as you need to. When you can trust me not to take it away from you, then you can give it back to me.”
***
They turned into the dirt road leading to the farm. Chloe spotted a silver car parked out front; flashy and very expensive-looking.
“That must be the therapist your dad talked about,” she ventured.
“Hmm?” Clark looked up. Upon seeing the car, his face blanched. “No. It’s not.”
“Oh? Friend of your dad’s, then?”
“Not that, either.”
She stared at him, puzzled. “But you know who he is?”
“You should get in the house,” he whispered urgently.
She frowned. “Why? Who is he?”
He swallowed hard. “That’s Morgan Edge.”
***
Chapter 2…
Yes, after 3 years, 4 months & 2 days since the last update on this story was posted, I’m back with the beginning of the long-awaited sequel. Thank you all so much for your patience, I really appreciate it and hope I won’t let you down!
Without much ado, let’s get on with it. We begin where we left off; with Chloe & Clark adjusting to the first day of their new living arrangements, and on their way to school. Enjoy! And as always, Feedback = Love.
Awesome banner by ellashy - thanks, babes!
Title: Crisis II: The Healing
Author: BabyDee1
Pairing: Chlark/Kaloe
Rating: PG for now, NC-17 later
Warnings: Sequel to Crisis, which deals with disturbing themes
Timeline: Season 2-3 (Exodus - Exile; Clark’s RedK Summer & beyond)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics
Summary: Following the devastating events of Crisis, Clark and Chloe attempt to rebuild their friendship against all odds.
Feedback: …would be appreciated. :)
Read origin story, Crisis, from the beginning here.
Final chapter can be found here.
Crisis II: The Healing
Chapter 1
She had expected school to feel somewhat different, given her new living circumstances; but to her surprise it had just been a typical day.
.
Chloe hummed to herself as she packed her books into her bag. It was only just now beginning to feel a bit strange as she prepared to head off to the Farm; she couldn’t quite think of it as ‘home’, wasn’t sure if she ever would. But it was the best option she had until the end of the year, when she joined her father in Wisconsin. She could stick it out for a few months.
She stepped out of The Torch and jumped slightly as she saw Clark waiting for her by the door. “Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yeah, but…” she glanced around to make sure no-one was listening, then she continued. “…I thought you’d have already made your way on foot.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t leave you to come home on your own.”
“I wouldn’t have been on my own, I’d have been on the bus.”
“I guess. Still, I’m more than happy to wait for you.” He paused. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s fine. I appreciate it.” She locked The Torch door, and they went outside to where their school bus was waiting.
***
The school bus dropped them off at the usual place.
They began the walk back to the Farm. It was a fairly long walk; just under a mile, not a distance she was used to taking on foot, but she hadn’t had a car in a long time, so she’d had to adjust to her new circumstances. Of course, Clark could pick her up and get her to the front door in seconds, but she was still very wary of him touching her and would rather walk a far greater distance than have his hands on her again.
She glanced over at him. Their conversation this morning about his reluctance to express his opinions to his parents was still at the forefront of her mind, and she was keen to get back to it. He, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to talk about anything else but that. A small frisson of sympathy welled up in her. As a writer, she had interviewed a number of people from adoptive families about various things, and the one thing she had noticed about them was their driving need to succeed. It was almost as if they somehow felt they had to justify the existence that their parents had given them; make their presence worthwhile.
Occasionally there was the odd child who rebelled and asserted their individuality, usually through questionable fashion choices and a profession as far away from what their parents would have wanted for them. But never in all her years had she interviewed someone who’d resorted to the use of a Class A drug in order to speak honestly and openly with their parents because they feared disappointing them.
At least, she assumed the red kryptonite had that effect, based on Clark’s attitude when he was on it.
“What’s it like?” she asked suddenly. He turned to her with a questioning look. “The redK in your system?” she clarified.
Clark pondered briefly. “It’s an emotional painkiller,” he said at last. “It makes everything…hurt less.”
“But it doesn’t take the pain away completely?”
He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.”
She paused. “Do you…do you feel guilty for the horrible things you do when it affects you?”
He frowned. “At the time no; it doesn’t seem to matter as much,” he explained. “And it makes it easier for me to do things I usually wouldn’t.”
“Like what?”
“Everything. Spending money I know my parents don’t have, simply because I want something for myself; telling them out loud that I sometimes feel stifled feel by their upbringing; using my abilities openly because I don’t want to have to hide who I really am…” He paused. “Pushing boundaries. Touching you when I knew you didn’t want me to.”
“Like in the desert?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“But you did it to save me,” she reasoned.
He gave her a sidelong glance. “I still scared you half out of your mind, didn’t I?”
A vivid image of herself determinedly pressing a sharp stone to her wrist surfaced in her mind, followed by the memory of Clark grabbing her arms to restrain her. She didn’t want to make excuses for his behaviour, but…
“If you hadn’t been wearing the ring that day,” she began hesitantly, “Would you have come to the Torch to confront me about what I did to you?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“So the RedK makes you…” She searched for the right word - “…uninhibited?”
“Pretty much. I’m sorry I scared you that day. I didn’t want to, but…”
“I was going off the rails, and I needed an intervention,” she admitted. “I know that now. I mean, I almost drowned you…”
“Yeah, but…” he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “It all comes back to you only hurting me because I hurt you first.”
“That doesn’t make what I did to you okay,” she said gently.
“True. But still, it was hypocritical of me to challenge you on your behaviour, knowing that I’d led to your actions. But I was so worried that you were losing yourself, Chloe. I had to do something.”
“Hence, the ring,” she surmised.
“He nodded. “Hence the ring.”
She remembered his reluctance to take it off that day in the Torch. He’d found it easier to hand her back the green stone that could kill him than to remove the glowing red ring from his finger.
“What happens when you take it off?” she asked, and he gave a slow shake of his head.
“All the pain…floods back,” he said quietly. “And it feels even worse than before.”
“Is that why you kept it on all the time you were in Metropolis?”
He nodded again. “I felt responsible for the death of my little brother or sister, and I just couldn’t deal with that level of pain. The only time I took it off was after I…” he trailed off, but her mind had no trouble filling in the blanks. After he’d raped her.
“Even in my drug-enhanced state, I knew I’d crossed a line,” he whispered brokenly. “I went to a phone booth and called my Mom, but I was so ashamed of what I’d done, I couldn’t even speak.”
Chloe remembered that day all too well. After the unexpected attack, she’d gone to inform his parents of his whereabouts. She had no idea how, but somehow they’d managed to persuade him to come home. Maybe one day she’d get that story out of him.
“Is it addictive?” she asked. “The redK?”
“It has the potential to be extremely so.”
Her hand hovered unperceptively over her pocket containing the lead box with the green stone inside.
So how do you manage to stay away?” she queried.
“It’s difficult.” He uttered a harsh sound. “Actually, that’s an understatement. It takes every ounce of strength I possess not to seek out the pleasure and release of a redK hit, especially after having had it on for months at a stretch.” He sighed heavily. “It’s a daily struggle, staying away from it. I just…take one day at a time.”
“So it is like a Class A drug?”
“I guess it has the same type of effect; yeah.”
Her hand tightened on her pocket. “Would you ever use it again?” she asked. “Voluntarily?”
He stared into her eyes and shook his head. “No. Never,” he replied honestly. “Not after what I did to you when I was wearing it.”
“But if it’s as addictive as you say…”
“I’m never going near it again,” he said firmly. “Ever. If you even think I might be under its influence, you know how to stop me.”
“Yeah, about that…” she dug the lead box out of her pocket and handed it to him, her hand trembling slightly.
He stared warily at the box, then glanced up at her. “You’re giving it back to me? Why?”
She shrugged. “Like you said, you can take it away from me anytime you want.”
He shook his head. “You hold onto it,” he said softly. “I’ll never hurt you again, Chloe; you have my word.”
“I wish I could believe you,” she whispered, remembering just how easily he disarmed her the last time.
“You keep that as close as you need to. When you can trust me not to take it away from you, then you can give it back to me.”
***
They turned into the dirt road leading to the farm. Chloe spotted a silver car parked out front; flashy and very expensive-looking.
“That must be the therapist your dad talked about,” she ventured.
“Hmm?” Clark looked up. Upon seeing the car, his face blanched. “No. It’s not.”
“Oh? Friend of your dad’s, then?”
“Not that, either.”
She stared at him, puzzled. “But you know who he is?”
“You should get in the house,” he whispered urgently.
She frowned. “Why? Who is he?”
He swallowed hard. “That’s Morgan Edge.”
***
Chapter 2…