Lana, offscreen Chlark
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
I dug my key into the side
Of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive
Carved my name into his leather seats
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights
Slashed a hole in all four tires...
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
-Carrie Underwood, "Before He Cheats"
Clark's gleaming new truck sat on the curb in front of the Talon, glistening dark red in the amber glow of the streetlight. His family had never had a lot of money, and he'd driven old, beatup trucks for a very long time.
Lana knew that he took an inordinate amount of pride in this truck. He'd bought it with his own money, and he was working impossible hours in the Daily Planet file room around his college classes, and scrimping like crazy to make the payments.
And the irony was that he didn't even need a truck. He was capable of running at warp speed, or something close to it. To paraphrase Gloria Steinem, a superpowered alien needed a truck like a fish needed a bicycle.
But he loved that truck.
She glared at the truck a moment longer, then fished her keys out of her pocket. She stood there a moment longer, hesitating. Remembering.
She couldn't get the images out of her head. She remembered seeing Clark and Chloe locked together in an embrace, one of his hands up under her shirt, his mouth pressed to hers. They'd been in Clark's dorm room at Kansas A&M, and they'd been so... so involved they hadn't even noticed when she pushed the door open.
And since Clark had superhearing, and could hear a pin drop from ten miles away, that told her clearly how very wrapped up in Chloe he'd been.
Anger flamed through her, and her hand jerked up of its own accord. The key slashed a long line in the pickup's paint.
I gave up everything for him, she thought angrily, digging the key in a little harder, walking toward the back of the truck while the key scraped along the truck's side. He said he loved me. He wanted to marry me.
I gave up Lex, money, power... all for him.
She stalked around the truck, scratching a nice deep line down both sides, as well as the back and hood. And remembering.
She couldn't forget the way his big hand had moved up to cup the side of Chloe's face, gentle and possessive, cradling her like she was terribly important to him. She remembered seeing Chloe move closer to him, sliding into his lap and straddling his thighs. They'd both been wearing all their clothes, but their bodies had started to move together in an unmistakable way.
And Lana had realized with a terrible feeling of betrayal that they wouldn't be wearing clothes much longer.
Bastard. She looked around, desperate to do more damage to his shiny red truck. Because damn it, he deserved it.
She didn't see a conveniently placed brick, but she remembered the old Louisville Slugger in her trunk, which Chloe insisted she carry as protection. Chloe had wanted her to carry a Taser, but Lana hadn't felt comfortable with that. But she'd been warmed that Chloe worried about her that much, and grateful that Chloe was such a good friend.
Which was awfully ironic, considering Chloe no longer seemed like such a terrific friend. Chloe clearly hadn't wasted one second worrying about her before sticking her tongue down Clark's throat.
Lana popped her trunk open, grabbed her bat, and stalked back to the truck. The bat slammed into one of the headlights. Glass shattered with a satisfying crash, and she spun around, holding the bat aloft, and smashed it into the other headlight, too.
She lifted the bat and stood shaking, gasping for breath, blinking against the tears that burned her lids. The truth was, she wasn't sure if she was angrier with Clark and Chloe, or herself. Because she'd known better.
Somewhere deep inside, she'd always known this would happen someday.
She'd never dared let herself commit to Clark, because she'd always had the terrible fear that Chloe meant more to him than she herself did. Yes, he claimed to love her-- but she couldn't fail to notice that in any sort of trouble, it was Chloe he turned to. When he was lonely or depressed or just plain bored, it was Chloe he called.
And it had always been that way. Even back when they'd been dating, she'd felt like she was an afterthought, an interloper, a third wheel, whenever Chloe was in the room. Clark hardly talked to her if Chloe was around. He didn't even look at her.
He was too busy looking at Chloe.
She vividly remembered a Christmas Eve she'd spent at his parents' house, back before the Kent farm had been leased out to strangers. She'd helped the Kents out by serving drinks, while Clark and Chloe had huddled together in the corner, whispering intently about something or other.
She remembered glancing at them with a twinge of dismay and thinking, They're practically in each other's laps.
She'd had that same thought, over and over again, in the intervening years. So tonight it shouldn't have come as such a big shock to her to find Chloe quite literally in Clark's lap.
But it had been a shock. Because even though on some level she'd known she was losing Clark to Chloe, that he'd never love her the way he loved Chloe, she'd been certain he'd break up with her before he made any sort of move on Chloe.
Instead, he was cheating on her. Before tonight, she never would have believed he'd cheat on her. But in the time it had taken her to drive across town, Clark and Chloe had almost certainly made love. She imagined them sprawled in Clark's bed in a warm tangle of limbs and sheets, sweaty and panting and satiated, and fury exploded in her chest.
She flung the bat aside and yanked the driver's door open. Smallville was still a small enough town that people tended not to lock their doors, and since Clark had been raised on a farm, he tended to be really bad about it. She'd nagged him about it for years. But tonight she was really glad he never remembered to lock his doors.
She pulled out her keys again, and started carving her name into the leather seats.
Somewhere deep inside, she recognized that what Clark was doing with Chloe really wasn't all that different from what she'd done with Clark when she was supposed to be engaged to Lex. She'd kissed Clark quite readily, despite her supposed engagement, and she would have gone further, a lot further, if he'd been willing.
The painful truth was that she would have cheated on Lex in a heartbeat. She'd enjoyed the taste she'd had of money and power-- but she didn't love Lex, and she hadn't cared much whether her actions hurt him or not.
And maybe that was what was driving her outrage-- the knowledge that in a way, she deserved this. She'd earned it.
As Chloe was fond of saying, karma was a bitch.
Even so, it wasn't an easy thing to lose the guy she loved, especially to a woman who'd been her best friend for years. Especially when Lana had always been afraid to commit to him, almost certain that his heart was elsewhere. And now he'd confirmed her worst fears.
Clark loved Chloe. He'd always loved Chloe. On some level, Chloe meant far more to him than she herself did.
And deep down, she'd always known it.
She remembered the sight of them moving together, eyes closed, mouths fused together, totally and completely focused on each other. Anguish sliced through her, cutting into her heart more deeply than she'd ever thought possible. Shoulders squared, she strode back to her own little SUV and dug in the console for the pocket knife she kept there.
Clark's tires were next, damn it. She was going to cut them into ribbons, the same way he'd cut up her heart.
And then she was going to walk away from him, and never, ever look back. She hoped.
Oh, God, she hoped.