Season 8, MHE for "Odyssey"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Screencap from keakack.
Clark was alive.
Intellectually, of course, Chloe had known he was alive. Ollie had called her the minute his powers were restored.
But knowing Clark was all right wasn't the same as seeing him walking into her apartment, whole and unscathed. Getting a phone call that he was okay had been a relief.
But seeing him walk in, when she'd watched him bleed to death in her arms, hit her like a kick to the gut.
She'd been standing in the tiny kitchen area of her apartment, washing the dishes from her dinner-- because she'd been imprisoned for a month, and the first thing she'd wanted to do when she got home was indulge in comfort food, namely spaghettios-- when he walked into her apartment. As usual, he didn't knock, just strode in.
She dropped the dishtowel and zipped toward him, as if she were the one with superspeed. He took a step backward to save her from the full impact of crashing against his invulnerable body, and wrapped his arms around her, just as he'd done earlier.
She buried her face in his shoulder, and memories flooded her, memories of their reunion earlier this afternoon.
It had been the first time she'd seen her best friend in a month.
"Clark!" She'd gaped as he bounded into her cell and took out the guy who'd tasered Lois with one big fist. "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you!"
He knelt, very briefly, to make certain Lois was okay. And then he was on his feet, and running toward her.
"I'm sorry." The words came out in a rush as he unbuckled her wrist restraints. "I got held up in a Russian work camp."
Freed, she flung her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her, too, holding her against his chest. She could feel his big hands gripping her shirt possessively.
"I'm so glad you're okay." He spoke into her shoulder, his voice muffled. "I worried... the whole time I was gone, I worried about you..."
"Yeah," she whispered, stroking his hair. "Me too."
She wanted to stay in his arms forever, but she knew they didn't have time to waste. She didn't want to be recaptured. Pulling back just a little, she stared curiously into his face, because it had dawned on her that he hadn't shattered her restraints, as he ordinarily would have. He'd wasted precious seconds by unbuckling them.
"What happened to you?" she asked, cupping his face in her hands. "You're..."
"Human." He nodded, his eyes very serious. "It turns out that when Jor-El said there was a way to control me..."
"He meant taking away your powers." She was hardly aware they were finishing each other's sentences. They'd been doing that for so long it really wasn't something she noticed anymore.
"Yeah," he agreed. "That's why I couldn't get away, because I didn't have my powers. But I wanted to, Chlo. I tried so hard to get home. I wanted to save you."
Fear tangled in her chest, fear for him rather than for herself. Even without powers, Clark had come to save her. But without his powers, he was risking his life by breaking into this facility, and they both knew it.
"How are we going to get out of here?" she asked.
"Don't worry," he told her. One big hand stroked her hair reassuringly, and he smiled a little. "I have backup."
And now she was in his arms again, her face pressed against the softness of his flannel shirt. He smelled like Clark always did, like summer sunshine and hay and apples and growing grass, all the best smells of a farm.
She'd missed that smell.
She'd missed him.
"Chloe." His voice was hoarse. "Chlo..."
In response to the desperate longing in his voice, she lifted her head. And suddenly he was kissing her, hard, demanding, almost violent kisses that clearly conveyed all the loneliness and anxiety he'd suffered through in the past month.
His mouth pressed against hers hard, and her lips opened instinctively in response. And then his tongue was sliding into her mouth, stroking and exploring and caressing. She felt herself melting against him, helpless against the onslaught, and her hands dug into his hair.
One big hand slid down to her lower back, splaying out over her back, pulling her against him. She felt their bodies molding together, fitting together perfectly, as if they'd been made for one another.
A little sound rumbled deep in his chest, and then he was tugging her toward the area of the apartment that served as a bedroom.
Part of her wanted to go with him without argument. Most of her wanted to fall into bed with him. But she struggled to hold onto her sanity. She put her hands on either side of his face, very gently, and pushed him away.
"Chlo..." He was looking at her, his green eyes filled with something wild and intense, something she'd never seen there before. Clearly the month of being depowered and in a work camp had forced him into some new realizations about their relationship.
"I can't." She spoke in a harsh whisper, closing her own eyes against the tears that stung her eyelids. "I'm sorry, Clark, but I can't."
"Chloe." His voice was rough, as if he was fighting against anger. "I missed you. I missed you so much."
"Yeah. Me too. But..." She lifted her left hand, so that he could see the cheap plastic ring on the third finger.
"I told Jimmy I'd marry him," she said.
Read Chapter 2 here.