All The King's Men

Title: All The King’s Men
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Lara AU
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: So tobywolf13 felt there was more to be told to Life’s Little Ironies. I agree, but I’m afraid my muses are impatient and jumped ahead a bit. I wrote this to soften the transition.

Most of all, it’s a birthday present to someone who shares their engaging stories and ridiculous talent with us almost daily. Happy Birthday, Toby!

--

His skin cannot be pierced. Even the most extreme temperatures have no effect on him.

So why can’t he shake this chill?

Her defenses are painfully secure. Clark Kent knows he’s been given more chances than anyone deserves, but after leaving Chloe and Jonathan in her room for some bonding time, he finds it hard to fight frustrated tears.

He should be thrilled. She’s back. She’s healthy and Jonathan is whole and free. She even handled the news that she was a parent far better than he did.

Maybe that’s a human thing, maybe it’s a girl thing. He has the sneaking suspicion it’s a Chloe thing.

He ponders that while he crosses the short distance to the room next door. When she was gone completely, the silence and uncertainty nearly drove him mad. Just hearing her breathe is a comfort.

She’s been his best friend since he was a child. The depth of his panic at watching her fall in that operating theater surprised him anyway.

Upon reflection, and he’s had time for far too much of it lately, he knows he’s a poor excuse for a friend. Ollie, Bruce, Vic, AC and Bart all have these special little rituals for her, and it’s the strangest thing to see.

He always thought he knew everything there was to know about Chloe Sullivan, but he had no idea she loved the sunset in Gotham, or that she kept a satchel of white tea in her pillowcase. He didn’t know that she likes the doors open in the afternoon, when the Wayne gardens gleam in the hazy sunlight.

AC brings her a new seashell every time she comes back from the dead. Vic says it started when she described death as floating on sea foam.

The size of the collection is humbling.

Clark is accustomed to strangeness. He has lived it every day he can remember, but her gifts are more than a little intimidating.

He can’t help but listen through the wall as she marvels aloud at Jonathan’s eyes and his perfect little nose.

“You are just the cutest little guy I ever met, you know that? How on Earth could you be mine? Hmm…yeah. Never mind about the how. That’s definitely more complicated than usual.

“Has your daddy been taking good care of you? Did he give you lots of hugs while I was sleeping? I’m sorry about that, little man, but even if you weren’t mine, you were important enough to save. I guess there will always be someone to save. We’ll have to work on that, or at least have a backup plan, now that we have you.”

She falls silent for a second and he can almost see her staring out at the burnt-orange sunset.

“We…God, this is officially the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me, and that’s saying a lot. Why did it have to be him? Anyone else, and…” He hears her sniffle and doesn’t try to check the shame. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. You’re here and we’re going to take good care of you, no matter what we figure out for custody.”

Custody…since finding out they were in this together, he’s never put their situation in those terms. It stings a bit more than he was ready for that it’s the first place her mind goes.

For some reason, he had dreams of them raising Jonathan together as a team, a partnership. They may not be romantically involved, but that doesn’t mean they have to deny their son a whole home. He knows how much having both parents helped and she knows how much it hurts to be away from one of them. Why shouldn’t they try to make it work?

--

She looks down again. They are bound by this tiny little person. No matter what came before, she owes it to Jonathan to mend some fences. She calls out to the empty room she knows has ears.

“Give it up Clark. We might as well talk now.”

She hears huge feet shuffle in the hall outside her door moments later. He peeks around the door, obviously caught.

“Come in.”

“Maybe this isn’t the best time, Chlo.” He sniffs and approaches the chair by her bed reluctantly.

“Oh for…are those tears?”

He swallows and looks away.

She sighs. “I know this must be a big disappointment, Clark. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry things ended up as weird as they did.”

He looks up sharply at that, confusion written plainly in his eyes.

“You and Lana.” She tries for patient, reminding herself that this is for Jonathan.

His brow remains furrowed. Is he seriously going to make her spell this out? She’s not a fool.

“I know you wanted her to be the mother of your children. This…situation…is a million miles outside the realm of possibilities either of us considered. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’d…I’d really like to be there for him, too.”

“Do you…” He starts in a whisper, swallowing a look of shock. “Do you really think so little of me?”

She looks down at the baby, who’s watching her with Clark’s wide eyes. When she speaks, she keeps her tone gentle, for both of them. “We’ve been friends forever. I think I’m pretty clear on why you’re upset.”

She tries to put as much dignity as she can muster into her next words. “It doesn’t change the fact that he’s my son. Like it or not, we’re going to have to figure this out. For him.”

“Chloe.” Her name is a horrified whisper. “I know I’m slow on the uptake - believe me, the guys have spent most of the week reminding me - but Lana is a monster. I’m beyond glad she has no right to him.”

His eyes are welling with tears, and she can barely fight the urge to smack him. He has no right to grow a brain when everything’s so broken.

“I never thought I would get to be a dad. In a way, I’m grateful to Lex and Lana for giving me the chance.” He pauses, and swallows almost nervously. “And I can’t imagine a better mother for him.”

Damn him. Now she’s fighting tears of her own. She takes a deep breath, regaining control and completely uncertain what the protocol is for a situation like this. “O-Okay. I’m, uh, glad you think so.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes. “So where do we go from here?”

For all her bravado, she hates that he looks beaten in a way he didn’t when he realized the extent of Lana’s betrayal. She shifts her focus to the baby, who is starting to fuss.

“I guess we start by feeding the little guy. Can you…?” A bottle of formula appears before she finishes the request, and she can’t stop the crooked smile that sneaks across her face. “Well, that’s convenient.”

Jonathan eagerly accepts the bottle, his gaze never leaving her.

“He looks so serious for such a tiny baby.” She wonders aloud.

Clark leans in. “I don’t think he got much human contact…there.”

She stiffens at the proximity, and notices how the baby starts and looks at his father with something akin to fear. Taking a deep breath, she forces herself to calm, even leaning in a smidge to let the little guy know it’s okay. “Everything’s okay.”

“Yeah, it is. It will be.” The conviction in Clark’s voice is heartbreaking, because she doubts it will ever be simple for them. Any of them.

---

Clark Kent has slept in this too-soft bed in a drafty mansion for three weeks now. Every night, his dreams are the same.

It’s unnerving.

Chloe Sullivan has always been a whirlwind of motion. She is a bright, shiny bundle of energy that never stops fighting for what’s right; never stops pushing people to be better.

Seeing her sit stock-still on the old ratty couch in his loft as she gazes at the setting sun with a calm determination is downright freaky. He’s terrified to break the silence, so he watches.

He waits for the spell to break itself. For her to shake off whatever distraction has caught her attention and return to the fidgety girl he knows and loves.

But her silence is unbroken.

He can’t take the unsettling image any longer, so he clears his throat and climbs the remaining steps. She turns to him with a grace that he’s sure he’s seen, but never really registered, a tentative smile playing at her lips.

“Hey, Clark.”

“Hi Chlo. Everything okay?”

“Mmm. Good as ever. Sorry for invading your old fortress. I promise I’m not playing the creepy stalker. I just needed some down time.”

“Hey, my fortress is your fortress. Feel free to mope here any time you like.”

“I wouldn’t dream of competing with an intergalactic champion. I’m just thinking.”

“Yeah, that’s what I call it, too.”

“Ha. Funny.” She rises and swings her purse over her shoulder. The eerie stillness lingers. “Well, I’d better be going.”

“Just like that? You don’t want to hang out?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the best idea, Clark. Lana is waiting for you.”

“Why would she care?”

“We’re…not exactly on the best terms lately.”

“Is this because of last month?”

“It’s not really a you and me thing, so I’d rather not go into detail. I’m sure we’ll work it out.”

She brushes past him like she has a hundred times before, but the familiar gesture only increases his unease.

“Chloe?”

“Yeah, Clark?”

“What’s really going on?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” She stills, as if listening to something only she can hear. “Go back to Lana. She needs you.”

With that, and barely a whisper of the dirt under her feet, she sweeps out of the barn. He works hard to place the discomfort he feels as he listens to her get in her car and drive off. There’s still a muted quality to the air around him, and he knows he’s missed something big. He just can’t figure out what it is.

He wakes with a cry of alarm, covered in sweat and choking on grief. Listening, the mansion is silent, save the sounds of its occupants and a few bats in the lower levels. He squints in the dim light, switching to x-ray to read the clock.

Three in the morning. It’s always three when he wakes. He has no idea why.

He does, however, know why his mind keeps returning to that afternoon. He was sick with worry when it looked like Chloe might not return from saving Jonathan. He spent a lot of the first few days beating himself up for being oblivious to the changes in his best friend.

She lived through a week straight out of his worst nightmares, and he never even noticed the difference when she returned. He wracked his brain to pinpoint the moment things changed.

After replaying almost every conversation he had with her in the last three months, he finally stumbled upon that afternoon. It was so unsettling he’d honestly tried to put it out of his mind.

He didn’t have to ask the guys. Even with the tattered state of their friendship, he knew she had sought his comfort.

And once again, he let her down.

He’s terrified he can never earn another chance. It’s still shocking how much he needs one.

---

End(ish)