Density, Chapter 7

Lois, Clark, Chloe, Jimmy
Season 8
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Read Chapter 6 here.
Read the story from the beginning here.

I figured anything I could do to disrupt things might help. We needed to play for time. Maybe, just maybe, if I could delay things a bit, Clark could figure out what to do.And then maybe we could figure out how to save her.

So I stumbled and fell into Chloe, clutching my stomach and making gagging noises. Chloe was wearing three-inch heels, and she went over like a bowling pin, striking her head on the makeshift altar.

And instantly I had guilt, because it sounded like a watermelon being hit by a hammer. Oh, my God, I thought. What if I really hurt her?

Then again, it occurred to me that if I'd knocked Chloe out, whatever was sharing Chloe's brain might be knocked out too.

She lay on her back, blinking dazedly, blood oozing from a cut on her forehead. Jimmy knelt beside her.

"Chloe!" he said desperately. "Are you all right?"

She gazed at him vacantly, and suddenly her eyes went dark and horrible. Jimmy shied back, looking stunned, and I knew that for the first time, he'd realized that something else was inside Chloe. Something really, really scary. Those eyes, and her terrible expression, left no doubt.

She started to speak, but then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she passed out.

I heard scattered phrases from the congregation-- someone call an ambulance, oh, my God, what a terrible thing to happen on her wedding day, do you think she'll be all right?-- but I didn't listen to them. I looked up at Clark, waiting for him to tell me what to do.

Not that I make a habit of listening to Smallville or anything. But he was the only one with full knowledge of what was going on in this situation. So for once in my life, I was willing to let him make the decisions.

He hesitated, then leaned down and scooped her up in his arms.

"Hey!" Jimmy stood up, his pale blue eyes lighting with rage. "You're not supposed to move someone who's been injured, CK! She could have a neck injury, or--"

"Jimmy." Clark spoke in a rapid whisper. "She has something a lot worse than a neck injury. You saw it."

Jimmy hesitated, and raw pain twisted his face. He knew.

"Do you know how to help her?"

"No," Clark said. "But I might know someone who does."

He turned and stalked up the aisle, carrying her in his arms like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold. Everyone stood frozen, uncertain what was going on. I hesitated only a moment, then ran after him and grabbed his arm.

"Smallville! Wherever you're going, I'm coming with you."

"Lois," he said tersely, "I'm in a hurry."

"So let me drive. I don't drive like a ninety-year-old, the way you do."

We stepped outside, into the sunshine. He turned his head and looked at me with an odd expression on his face.

"Lois," he said, very gently, "I can get there faster if I don't go in a car."

I tried to figure that one out, and couldn't. Unless the Enterprise was in orbit, ready to beam him up, he wasn't likely to get off the farm in a big hurry without a vehicle.

"Smallville," I said impatiently, "maybe someone hit you in the head, too. Because you're obviously hallucinating. Wherever you're going, I'm coming along. Just shut up and let me drive, okay?"

"We don't have very long," he snapped out, still walking toward the road. "If she wakes up..."

"Then the scary dark eyes come back. Yeah, I got that. So get in my car and quit arguing." I dug my fingers into his tux sleeve. "You're not going anyplace without me. Chloe's my cousin."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, then shifted Chloe so she was over his shoulder, dangling face down. And then, much to my shock, he picked me up with one arm, like I weighed nothing at all, and flung me over his other shoulder.

Shock really didn't cover it. I mean, yeah, I knew Clark Kent was a corn-fed farmboy, who had some pretty nice muscles from all the work he did on the farm. But carrying two women on his shoulders-- well, I made a mental note to call him Paul Bunyan from now on.

Even so, I figured he couldn't actually walk this way.

And he didn't.

He blurred.

I don't know what else to call it. One minute we were in the Kansas sunshine, and then there was a sort of blur and rush of wind, and we were in this dark place. And suddenly it was cold as hell. Not Kansas winter cold, but dark-side-of-the-moon cold.

He dropped me down on my feet, laid Chloe gently down on what looked like an altar made of ice, and spoke to the air.

"Jor-El," he said. "I need help."

More to come...