Detour

Title: Detour
Rating: PG
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark-ish
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Bizarro
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Note: So I actually wrote this after Kara, to try and scrub the “special needs” smile on Clark’s face at Lana’s return out of my brain. This completely ignores that episode and goes AU after Bizarro. I already preferred my Chloe mostly pine-free at the time.

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Chloe Sullivan is never going to get the man of her dreams, any more than Clark Kent was going to marry Lana Lang and live happily ever after. She may have the most stubborn heart in history, but she’s no fool.

First love just doesn’t work that way.

Admittedly, Clark had an unfair advantage in getting over his lifelong crush. She loves Lana like a sister, is crushed at the prospect of her death, but unless you consider not committing to a full blink in the presence of moonstruck aliens to be a superpower, Chloe’s first love is way cooler than his.

It’s the most pathetic cliché in the universe, literally. She’s in love with her best friend, and he isn’t even aware she has breasts.

She died, for God’s sake, and he barely blinked at having her back. All he managed was an ill-timed nagfest about getting checked out. Like coming back from the dead wasn’t a big enough “Kick me” sign without voluntary medical testing to find every other freakish symptom of her mutation?

Lois should be dead. Hell, Chloe should be dead. She would prefer the latter any day, as long as she got to stay that way.

And yeah, she realizes how stupid and suicidal that sounds.

It’s just…she can’t shake this feeling that was the way it was supposed to be. She’s a little fuzzy on the details, but she does know for certain she was in a better place. Everyone she loves would have grieved for a time, but it might have helped Clark put Lana’s death in perspective, and spurned him to take a more active role in saving the world. Heck, it might have even kick-started Lois’ integrity and drive for justice.

Now, she feels adrift; like she’s veered off the map and there are no landmarks in sight.

She washes the evidence of her death down the garbage disposal, and is struck by the images of an almost-fate – charred, perhaps beyond recognition.

After burying herself under a mountain of blankets because she’s spent far too much of her life with an unnatural chill and death was no exception, Chloe Sullivan drifts off to a single thought: There has to be a way to set things right.

--

The angle of the sun through the living room windows is far too close to 90 degrees when she awakes to the scent of old coffee and the sound of hushed voices.

Ignoring them would be a lot easier if Clark and Lois could manage five seconds in the same room without an argument. Sharp whispers carry easily through the early morning air.

“Earth to Smallville.” Lois grinds. “It is 6:30 in the morning. I know you have a lot going on, but Chloe and I both pretty much died yesterday. We’ve officially earned the latest wakeup call ever.”

“Lois, I’m not trying to wake anyone up. I can just wait here until you two decide to rejoin the world.”

“And, what? Watch us sleep? Eew.” The distain in her voice is tangible. “No way. Lana issues or not, I have had my fill of freaky farm boy for a lifetime.”

“Lois.”

“You are not watching me sleep.”

“And as glad as I am to have you among the living, I’m not here for you.”

“You…?”

Awkward silence hovers for a moment. The familiar rustle of denim and she can almost see him shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“Ohhh.”

Clark clears his throat. “Yeah, well, we know why you were knocking on death’s door, but Chloe…”

“Nice to know who’s important around here.”

“Jeeze, Lois. Can you cut me a little slack for once in your life? How did you get into that situation in the first place? Oh yeah, that would be you not listening to anyone. Again.”

The discussion is quickly escalating in the direction of “screaming match” territory. As much as Chloe loves the half-asleep fly on the wall routine, it’s time for an intervention.

“Ugh. Do I need to separate you two?”

At least they both have the decency to look sheepish. Clark recovers first.

“Hey, Chlo. I just finished up my chores and wanted to see how you were doing. Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t sleep.” She yawns and stretches like a cat.

“Why not?”

“Because the two people I love most are five in their heads.”

“Hey! I resent that, little cuz. I’ll have you know I am at least eight in my head.” Lois huffs. “Eight was a fantastic age. No body trying to stab me, or grab my ass, or…”

“Fascinating, really, Lo. So who has coffee?”

She finally looks up at Clark, and he’s staring back without really seeing. From his vacant, shocked expression, she wonders if he’s even awake enough for the conversation.

“Clark? You okay?”

“Huh?”

“Coffee? Don’t tell me you tried to bust in here this early without enough caffeinated beverages to go around.”

“Oh! I, uh. Just…left them…downstairs. Yeah. Be right back.”

Then and there, Chloe decides her next major purchase will be acting lessons. That boy knows nothing about subtlety.

He stumbles out of the apartment, presumably to retrieve the already-purchased coffee. Lois looks like she might drift off again, so Chloe shoos her back to her own bed.

For just a moment, the apartment is silent. Golden rays float shimmering motes across the living room, and Chloe breathes deeply.

She’s alive and there’s nothing to be done about it. She’s been given a second chance. A freaking miracle any way she looks at it.

If she loses her mind tomorrow, at least she has one extra day to take with her; to be remembered for.

She has a crapload of work to do. Superhero-sidekicking is cool, but it’s unfortunately super-secret and certainly not going to get her remembered as the Daily Planet’s star reporter. Even given the challenges of working and going to school, she’s neglected a lot of her life’s work over the last few years by her standards.

Once she’s left her mark, maybe she’ll see what she can do about getting Clark and Lois on the track fate tried to set them on before she came on the scene and screwed everything up by not staying dead.

For now, though, Clark is just standing outside her door. It’s weird.

She noticed a few minutes ago that he’d been gone far longer than was necessary to put on a show of getting the coffee. Then she heard the familiar creak.

It must have something to do with his weight or build, but Clark’s the only one who makes the floorboard beyond her door groan in protest. Maybe it’s a throwback to the days when Lana lived here.

He still hasn’t knocked, and he’s not even looking. He’d see her virtually staring him down and move or something.

Definitely weird.

She reluctantly leaves the comfort of her bed and pads over to the door. The air feels muffled when she opens it, and Clark still has his deer in the headlights look. They stare at each other in silence for a long moment.

Curious, she tilts her head. “Are you really okay, Clark?”

He sighs and his shoulders slump. “No.”

She pulls him over the threshold and takes the coffee from his hands, setting it on the counter. Then she tugs him into a hug.

Of course he’s not okay. She’s such an idiot, worrying about her problems when the woman Clark thought he would marry someday is still in a morgue. There will be no miracles for Lana Lang today.

She knows she is supposed to be comforting him, but she can’t help the tears that fall on his shoulder. Lana was the sister she never had. In some ways, they were even closer than she and Lois.

“You love me.” She feels his tears on her shoulder. His voice is gravel.

She strokes the back of his head like she would comfort a child. “Of course I love you, you big dork.”

Her response seems to break something in him, because he’s sobbing. “You died on me. You left me.”

What does a person say to that? “I did. I’m sorry.”

“I was lost.”

“What?” Maybe she is a little sadistic, but she needs to hear.

“My powers. I lost control. I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

She’s a bad, bad person, because a little warmth settles in her chest at his statement. She smoothes his hair. “But you didn’t.”

“No. My hearing went crazy. I heard you calling my name.”

She can’t speak around the lump in her throat. So she holds him tighter, instead.

“I think I always knew.”

She pulls back far enough to look into his eyes, the question evident in her own.

“I’m a mess without you, Chlo. It scares the crap out of me.”

She smirks, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I would say that you’ll have to figure it out someday, but given the last 24 hours, I don’t know anymore.”

“I’ve forgotten how to live without you.” He says it so low she would have missed it if he hadn’t been speaking almost directly into her ear.

“That? We are going to have to work on.” It needs to be said.

“Why?”

“Clark, I know we have always been there for each other, and I don’t ever want to lose that. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m…holding you back from this great destiny.”

She pulls away. Tries to, anyway, but finds that a bit of a challenge when the inhumanly strong alien doesn’t want to let go.

She supposes a few more minutes in his arms won’t hurt. She can start charting her course after coffee.

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End