Chlark Fanfic: Crisis, Chapter 6
Er...does anyone still remember this story? because even I had to go back a few steps to refresh my memory before updating!
Anyway, Crisis update in the house. Hopefully I won't leave you waiting another six weeks before I post the next one. *iz sheepish*
I'll be going on a Chlollie bender after this, because I've a deadline to meet on finishing Love for Realsies, thanks to my Chlollie Award nominations (squee!!!), then The Perfect Gift will be next for an update, followed by On The Inside. Hope y'all still love me.
***Psst! MB, can I rely on you to quit your griping for at least five minutes? Please?? Ta, luv. ;-)***
Enjoy!
Title: Crisis
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlark/Kaloe
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter PG13)
Warnings: Graphic sex, non-con/rape, angst. Kal isn’t going to come off very nice in this story (see the warnings), so if you’re a fan of his, you might want to look away now.
Timeline: Season 2-3 (Exodus - Exile; Clark’s RedK Summer)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: A violent encounter between Chloe and Clark threatens to destroy their friendship forever.
Feedback: …is my applause. J
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 6
It was the longest night of his life.
Clark spent the rest of the night-time hours lying awake in his bed, just thinking. Wondering how he’d tell his parents everything he had done whilst he was in Metropolis, and what they’d think of him; wondering how they’d react when he told them what he’d done to Chloe. He knew they had their suspicions, but he was dreading the look on their faces when they heard the truth from his own mouth.
Several hours later he sighed and sat up bleakly, running a hand through his hair. It was one of those days that he wished the sun just wouldn’t come up.
But alas, today wasn’t that day. Dawn slowly crept over the horizon, and Clark went and stood by the open window, looking out over the rows and rows of corn in the open fields, just…thinking.
Eventually he crept downstairs and got started on all his chores, doing his best to try and slip back into an old routine. But every second that passed was one that drew him closer and closer to what would undoubtedly be the most stilted conversation he would ever have with his parents.
“Clark?” he heard his father calling several hours later.
“In here, Dad.”
He heard footsteps approaching the barn, and then his father appeared, wearing his favourite work jacket.
“I see you’ve gotten back into the swing of things,” he said with a slight mile.
Clark nodded. “No point hanging around when there’s work to be done.”
“Well, breakfast’s on the table, and your Mom wants you to come and get it before it gets cold,” his Dad said. “Why not get cleaned up and come join us?”
Clark swallowed as he detected the thinly-veiled breakfast invitation for the summons that it really was.
“I’ll be there in a moment, Dad,” he promised, taking off his work gloves.
***
An hour later, Clark and his parents sat finishing off a meal that he was certain none of them really tasted. It was a quiet affair, nothing like how mealtimes had been before he’d run away, when they’d chat for ages on end until they literally had to turf Clark out the door before he got too late for school.
As soon as everyone was done, Clark cleared the plates away and started running the water to wash them.
“Clark, leave those for now,” his mother called. “I’ll do it later. Could you come into the living room, please?”
Clark’s heart dropped like a stone at his mother’s words. The moment he’d been dreading had finally come. Unconsciously he wrung the dishwasher cloth in his hands so tight that the threadbare fabric gave way beneath his fingers like tissue paper.
He took a deep breath, tossed the ruined washcloth in the trash and then walked unsteadily into the living room where his parents were waiting. They were on the sofa facing his father’s favourite armchair, which Jonathan indicated that he sit in. They waited until he’d taken his seat, and then his Dad spoke.
“You want to tell us all about what happened, Clark?” he asked softly.
He gulped and hung his head. “It isn’t pretty,” he warned.
“We guessed as much. Just begin at the beginning, and fill us in on everything that happened since the day you left here, okay?”
He swallowed. “I’ll try.”
His mother nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, Clark,” she said solemnly.
Clark sat silently for a few minutes, and then he took a deep breath and began.
He told them all about how after he’d left them at the hospital, he’d climbed on his father’s bike, slipped the ring on and headed straight for Metropolis. He described in detail how he’d broken into ATMs and stolen money to rent his apartment and fund his lavish lifestyle; about the cars he’d stolen from showrooms and left abandoned on city streets; about the street thugs and drug dealers he’d beaten up not because he was interesting in fighting crime, but because he was bored and deliberately looking for trouble.
“The cars you stole would have been insured, so the showrooms would have recovered their losses,” Jonathan mused. “Regarding the apartment, I suggest you simply allow the lease to run its course, and when the landlord doesn’t see you around, he’ll get the message.”
Clark nodded. “Okay. I er…I still have some of the money stashed somewhere,” he added soberly. “I’ll return that to the bank as soon as I get the chance.”
He fell silent, and then his father spoke up.
“That’s not all you have to tell us, is it?” he asked gently. “What happened with Chloe, son?”
There it was. Clark clamped his lips shut and clasped his hands together tightly. He’d known this was coming, but even so, he found himself starting to sweat under his parents’ intense gazes.
“We already have some idea of what might have happened,” his mother said softly. “We just need to hear the whole story from you, Clark.”
He shifted uncomfortably and stared at the floor for several seconds, gathering up the courage to speak.
“Chloe tracked me down a few months ago,” he finally began. “She’d spotted me going into a Metropolis nightclub after she’d finished late at the Daily Planet, so she hung around, and when I left she followed me to the apartment.”
He took a deep breath, and went on.
“When let myself into the apartment, she tailgated me. Once I realised I’d been discovered, I threatened to run away again, but she promised not to tell anyone. I knew I could trust her not to betray my confidence, so I stayed where I was.”
He paused, remembering the mix of emotions he’d felt on first seeing Chloe in Metropolis.
“Go on,” his Dad prompted.
“She came by almost everyday to talk to me, keep me updated about how things were back home in Smallville. I would make out like I was ignoring her, but she was actually getting through to me, and I began to miss home even more. I even considered returning. That’s when…that’s when it started.”
His mother frowned. “What did?”
“This…I don’t know, this…Voice…would pop up in my head and try to influence me, get me to stay in Metropolis. Whenever I tried to ignore it, it would get nasty and brand me. After a while, it only showed up when Chloe came to see me, as she was the only thing that was trying to get me to return. I began to resent her for indirectly being the cause of so much pain to me.”
He swallowed, and then continued. “Then a few days ago, she came by again, and told me that I needed to come home, because you were in danger of losing the farm. She accused me of being a coward, and I yelled at her and threw her out, but she refused to leave. She kept banging on the door, and said she would stay out there all night, if she had to. Then I heard the Voice, and…”
“It branded you?” Jonathan asked softly.
Clark nodded sadly. “I…I dragged Chloe back into the apartment and I…” he stopped, unable to say the words, unable to even think them.
Jonathan took a deep breath and spoke quietly. “Did you force her to have sex with you, Clark?”
Clark still couldn’t bring himself to answer. He stared bleakly at the ground and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, then finally whispered a reply.
“Yes.”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see his mother press her hand to her mouth in despair. Jonathan wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a comforting gesture, a stony expression on his face.
“Much as I would like to come to your defence and say that you weren’t yourself, that it was all down to the brainwashing, I suspect that it may be more than that,” Jonathan said softly. “Am I right, son?”
This was the part that he’d been fearing the most. Sighing deeply, he resigned himself to telling the truth.
“I wish I could blame it all on the Voice in my head, but I can’t,” he whispered. “I hated her at that moment, hated the fact that she had everything going for her, and I didn’t. I was resentful, and I wanted to hurt her, and I did. All the Voice did was amplify what was already inside.”
No one spoke for several minutes, and the air was silent but for the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Clark sat downcast, not daring to look into his parents’ faces and see them looking back at him in anguished misery.
He was a monster, and now his parents knew. He could have lied to them, but that wouldn’t have achieved anything in the long run; he needed to get everything out there in the open.
“How do you intend to fix this, Clark?” his father asked solemnly.
He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know. There’s nothing I can say that will undo what I did to her, Dad; nothing. How do I even face her after something like this?”
“Well, you’re going back to school in a couple of days, so you’re going to find out, whether you like it or not,” his mother added, concerned. “You’re bound to run into her at some point.”
Clark sighed. “I have to talk to her, Mom, I know that,” he said. “But what do I say? What excuse could I possibly give to explain or justify my treatment of her?”
“You could tell her the truth,” his father said stoically. “And let her decide for herself who you really are.”
He blinked. “You mean…?”
“You have to tell her your secret, Clark,” Martha said gently. “It can’t be avoided, not if she’s to even begin to understand your reasons for attacking her.”
He swallowed hard. “Do you think…do you think she’ll understand?” he whispered.
Jonathan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Clark, what you did…that kind of attack…it’s highly personal, and the damage goes a lot deeper that what you see on the surface. The scars are up here -” he pointed to his brain “…and that’s going to take a lot longer to heal than the rest of her.”
“I can’t tell her that I deliberately hurt her; I just can’t,” Clark said desperately. “Maybe if I said the Voice was influencing me…”
Jonathan folded his arms and shook his head, his expression resolute. “As your parent, Clark, my natural instinct is to try to protect you on every occasion,” he said seriously, “but not this time. I honestly don’t know whether Chloe would understand why you wanted to hurt her so, but at the same time, lying to her about it isn’t the answer. She needs the truth.”
“Dad…do you understand?” Clark whispered.
Jonathan lifted his blue gaze and fixed it on his son. “In a way,” he replied softly. “After all, I was on the receiving end of your scornful side, and it hurt. But I knew that deep down inside, you were still my son, and all I had to do was find you again…bring you to the surface.”
“But you said it yourself, Dad; I’m your son, and you’re my parents,” he said dejectedly. “Even if I came in here and told you I’d murdered someone, you’d still find a way to protect me because you love me regardless. For Chloe…there’s nothing stopping her from going to the police and telling them everything I’ve done to her.”
“Actually, there is,” Jonathan said softly. “She went to the hospital to get checked out, and then she came straight here and told us where you were. She said she wanted us to bring you back home, because if you were here, you’d be back to your old self in no time. She hasn’t gone to the police because she’s waiting for your explanation.” He took a deep breath and got to his feet.
“And you need to find one for her, Clark; one that explains the truth behind everything, or you really will lose her forever.”
Martha stood up as well and went to gently grasp his shoulder. “Don’t think of what you’re going to say to her,” she advised. “Just be honest - about everything. It’ll hurt both of you, but at least it will all be out in the open, and maybe…just maybe, both of you can begin to find a way back from this.”
She squeezed his shoulder and left the room with his father. As soon as they were out of sight, Clark clasped his hands together and prayed for strength, guidance and forgiveness. Because he was definitely going to need all three.
***
Chapter 7…