Reversal

Title: Reversal
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark-ish, mentions of Clana
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Bizarro Missing Scene
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Note: I needed a little more than they gave us between Bizarro and Kara to explain Clark’s sudden decision to begin his training without factoring Chloe in (not to mention the noticeable lack of a Clana kiss in Fierce). Here’s one thought, given that this is supposed to be a “season of reversals”.

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Lois sweeps out of the farm house, and I try to bite back a chuckle at the shock written all over Clark’s face. God, I needed a little crazy to keep my mind off the real insanity. Lois and Clark are the perfect pair to deliver.

I make him promise to call me when he’s done moping, and agree to meet him for coffee in the morning, just to get us both out and about before the real work begins. After the last few weeks, a bit of normalcy among freaks is just what the doctor ordered.

There’s nothing strange about the way he walks me to the door. No warning whatsoever, actually. One minute we’re hugging a polite, best-friendly goodbye, and the next he is practically whimpering and pressing me into the doorframe while he kisses the daylights out of me.

Oh God. “No.” I push at him.

The horror must be written all over my face, because he recoils like I slapped him.

“But…”

Of all the… “Just, no.”

Are those tears? “Chlo, I know this isn’t the best time...”

Gee, you think? Lana’s been dead less than a day and you want to… what? Move on? I cross my arms, trying to put some distance between us. Yet another logic-free-discussion. Joy.

“I know you have a lot going on, Clark, and I’m here for you.” The crease between my eyes hits Grand Canyon proportions as he adopts his hopeful puppy face. Down boy. “As a friend, the same as always.” The little flame of something in his eyes just flickered out.

He looks all stoically determined and terrified in the same breath. “Not always, Chloe. You’ve laid one on me a few times over the years. I’m not confused.” He’s speaking slowly, his own eyebrows knitted together.

Oh look, there’s Clark’s Jonathan Kent impression.

I set my jaw, trying desperately to impose some sense of sanity on the situation. I even breathe deeply to clamp down the urge to shake him. It wouldn’t do either of us any good, anyway.

You’ve been confused since I met you, farm boy. “I am sorry if I’ve sent mixed messages over the years, Clark, I really am.” I pause. “But you haven’t.”

There he goes looking like he’s been slapped again. I’d better keep rolling while he’s busy being shocked. Like a band-aid.

“You love Lana. You have forever. You only just lost her. It’s natural to be angry at the world, maybe even a little angry at her, and want to…replace her, for lack of a better word.”

I’m really trying to look understanding, here, even if this feels like some insane out-of-body experience.

“But, Clark. This? Just can’t happen. I have too much going on, and I cared about Lana, too. Even if I did reciprocate, I just…couldn’t. It’s too soon.”

He steps back like he’s been burned. That’s right, mister. Remember your dream girl?

“You’re right. I’m…I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” His voice is monotone. His eyes everywhere but on me.

I breathe through the disappointment that lances through me at his confirmation of my suspicions, reminding myself that I won.

“I do, and it’s okay, Clark. Really. I’m just sorry it was me who came back from the dead, and not Lana. I hate to see you hurting like this.”

His head snaps up and he looks more stricken than he did when I found Lana’s death certificate in the morgue. He grabs my arms so hard they’re certain to bruise. Some part of me wonders whether they’ll heal miraculously before the bruises show.

“Don’t say that, Chlo. Please…just don’t.” There is a desperation in his eyes that makes me feel warm all over. Clark Kent never could stand the idea of someone else sacrificing themselves.

Looks like you picked the wrong BFF, buddy. Martyrdom seems to be coded into my DNA.

“Hey, I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere, but I’m pretty sure there were a lot of people who deserved a return ticket from the afterlife a whole lot more than I did. Lana is one of them, as much for your sake as hers.”

His mouth is set and his nostrils flare, but he bites back whatever response he intended and swallows. Instead, he pulls me into the friendly hug that started this mess.

Well, mostly friendly, when you don’t consider the rib-crushing intensity of it.

There’s warmth on my shoulder and his breath in my hair, but he lets go silently and looks down.

As I step over the threshold, I can’t shake the feeling that I just dodged something big. The sensation is so strong I have the fight the urge to run back and grab my chance all the way to the car.

I remind myself that I have other things to worry about right now than confused aliens. I have a death to cover up and a billionaire to take down.

I start the car and sweep my hair back off my face. That’s when I discover the dampness there, and look up in shock. Clark Kent is standing dejectedly at his door, eyes red with tears and a look of anguish on his face.

For just a second, I have the strangest impression that his grief has more to do with me than Lana Lang. I shake my head at my overactive imagination.

Wouldn’t that be the strangest reversal in history?

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End