"Go By"

///chapter nine///




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She was weightless, suspended, caught and cradled by the strong, sturdy arms that had intervened from her clumsy fall. It was a moment before she found herself being set on her feet.


“Are you alright?”


His voice was concerned, deep and somehow familiar.


But that didn’t matter being that she couldn’t see the person’s face while he stayed in the shadows. She scooted back, instinctively creating a barrier between them.


“I’m fine.” She kept her voice from shaking even if her heart still thrummed a little faster than usual.


The figure stepped forward, to which she stepped back. They continued this dance several times before he finally stopped his advancing.


“It’s alright.”


This time his voice was softer, and even more familiar.


She squinted, still unable to register it or his face. All she could tell from the low light was that he appeared to be a tall man, with a large muscular build. Exactly the type she didn’t want to be alone with in a basement in the middle of the night.


She watched as the he raised his hands in front of his chest in surrender, taking one last step into the glow of her computer behind her.


The light was dim, and blue, but it was enough illumination to capture his face.

A ghost.


She found her jaw dropping in that cliché way, struggling to pick it back up in its place, gasping for the air that was stolen from her chest and replaced with the heavy beating of her heart.


She shivered.


“Chloe,” he said very gently, taking a small step forward, testing the waters, “It’s me. It’s Clark.”

Clark. She studied him, eyes fastened to the face she couldn’t be sure was real or not, for she’d hallucinated it often, if not every day for the past two years.


Once able to tear her eyes away from his, she studied the strange form he had taken on tonight. His hair was wind blown, wet; his tie loose and crooked. More curiously, his limp, baggy dress shirt was damp, clinging only to part of his chest where she spied a dark undershirt soaked and hidden beneath it.


He didn’t look anything like the usual image she’d stored in her mind, the plaid, casually clothed farm boy she’d envisioned time and time again. He looked worse than that, he looked miserable.


But it was him. It was Clark.


She watched as he stood in front of her, both waiting for the other to react. Then she realized the turn was hers.


“Clark?” She searched the eyes cloaked behind glasses, “Clark, what are you doing in the Daily Planet’s basement?”


His dark eyes darted around surreptitiously.


A beat passed.


“I work here.” He said finally, his shirt soaking up more dampness with each passing second.


“You work here?” She tilted her head, raising her suspicions, “Since when have you worked at the Planet? I would have seen you here.”

I have seen you here, so many times. She thought guiltily. Before, she believed it was just her imagination, his presence haunting her like it had for years. But now she dumbly realized that perhaps she hadn’t been imagining him. Maybe he was, real?


Clark shrugged, surrendering a shy smile in response. “I’ve seen you here.”


“I work here.” Chloe stated dumbly, her mind catching up with the situation. “You work here.” She recited, with her brows furrowed, the pieces coming to together.


But they didn’t fit.


Something wasn’t right.


The only way Chloe knew how to keep her wits was to stay objective. So she started her questioning.


“Clark, if you saw me before, why didn’t you say anything?”


She watched Clark fumble around for a few words, squinting behind his glasses as if he didn’t want to confess a great secret.


“Well?” She stamped her heel, waiting for his answer.


“Well,” he scratched his head, “I did a few times, but I could have sworn you ignored me and then ran away like I was a ghost or something.”


The color fell from her cheeks. “Oh, did I do that?” She didn’t know if she should be relieved or humiliated, slowly gaining insight that her delusions were well, reality. She felt very stupid, which was hardly possible for a girl of her wits. Lately, with all of her preoccupation with her unremitting workload, she felt she was really losing her mind. Tonight was just more proof to the case.


“Yeah, you did, several times.” Clark smiled, “But, it’s ok. I thought maybe you were busy or—“


“Clark, I’m so sorry.”

I’m so sorry for acting like paranoid, delusional idiot. She felt her cheeks warming up again, blushing enough to overcompensate for her discomfiture.


Chloe apologized again, to which Clark smiled, promising that he forgave her. But he sensed that something else was wrong since the color in her cheeks had disappeared once more.


“Chloe, are you alright? What’s wrong?”


“If I told you, you’d just think I was weird.” Her eyes looked to his, asking for some sort of forgiveness.


Clark smiled again, shaking his head. “I could never think that.”


She smiled, sadly, Clark noted.


“Well in that case,” a cheery intonation returning just in time to hide her growing apprehension, “I’m in a desperate need of a caffeine fix. Do you drink coffee, Clark?”


“Sure.” He didn't usually, but if it was the only thing standing in the way of her happiness, he'd leap to the occasion.


“Perfect.” A genuine sigh of relief escaped through a fresh smile. Everything about tonight had racked up Chloe’s nerve to the point where she didn’t know if she was going to pass out from exhaustion or hyperventilate from the stress.


Coffee would calm her down. Coffee would help her figure this all out. Coffee kept her sane, so far.


Chloe moved through the maze of desks populating the dark basement, hearing Clark’s footfalls following behind hers along the way.




**


Following Chloe had never been easy, but it wasn’t like Clark had a choice. Ever since that fateful night, he’d found his conscious fastened to her as if a greater force compelled him to do so.


Nights after he’d finished his routine in Metropolis and had returned home, he’d toss and turn in bed, enduring fitful lapses of sleep and worry, never falling into the rest he sought.


But he was used to it, used to restless nights when the cries for help never ceased.


Clark would shut his eyes, isolating every sound till he found the only one that would bring comfort.


He found her so easily now. Years of habit and exercise tuning his abilities so finely that he could practically hone in on her heart in seconds.


But she didn’t bring him sleep like she once did.


No, now when Clark listened for her, he searched for all of her. Her voice, her face…


Her smile.


She kept him awake.


Or was it her words that kept him awake?


Chloe’s preternatural curiosity for the “weird” and “unexplained” hadn’t changed, steering her into danger like it always had.

Chloe.

Danger.


Clark shut his eyes harder, focusing even more on the sound of her heartbeat miles away. He knew he was being ridiculous. Clark could hear her, she was safe, and from the slow rhythm of it, probably asleep.


But Clark wasn’t.


He couldn’t stop thinking about her, about her determined words and stubbornness.


I’m not going to stop pursuing this just because I get bumped around once or twice.


Clark hated imagining her being “bumped” around at all. After all, she was only human.


The only human Clark knew of that willingly went head first into trouble. It bothered him that he’d let so much time lapse between checking up on her. What if something had happened to her since then? Would he have even known?


Of course he would have known, Clark reminded himself. He’d been listening to her heartbeat for years without even knowing it…

For years. Clark inwardly reiterated, mediating on the concept.


If anything had happened to her, he’d hear it.


He’d hear her.


It brought the slightest amount of comfort, but it also raised the big question.


Why Chloe?


Until that night, he’d never visited her, heard from her. He’d figured she’d gone along with her own life a long time ago, forgetting about Smallville altogether.


Except she hadn’t.


Chloe was the only person he’d heard of that sympathized for the meteor infected.


His eyes opened, hearing her again.


These people have no one else supporting them, speaking up for them. I can’t turn away.


Her words haunted him, echoing inside of his mind, convincing him that they were so true that they were almost his own.


He could never turn away from anyone who needed his help.


And this time, he couldn’t turn away from her.


It was only after he followed her voice, her heart, his restless mind would settle. He convinced himself that it was only for his own peace of mind that he check up on her occasionally to make sure his inquisitive, questing friend was safe from her own curiosity.


But his occasional check ups turned into daily check ups. She didn’t make it easy for him, with all of her late night stake outs, and her well practiced, slightly illegal field trips.


He kept his distance, promising to himself not to intervene in the life of a human more than he already had by just existing.


He wouldn’t let anything happen to her, especially while investigating the meteor rocks. He couldn’t be liable for another fatality so close to his cause.


Chloe’s precarious activities heightened once she officially joined the ranks of the Daily Planet. From there Clark had to become creative. He needed a legitimate reason to be around, at least in the area in case she ever needed him. And of course being legitimately employed in the center of downtown Metropolis didn’t hurt his cover for his long time, full time job watching over the citizens of an entire city.


So he took up the offer extended three years ago, by a less redeemed Perry White. When he’d first met the man, he’d been on a spiral down and very out. Perry hadn’t been very impressed with Clark’s cookie cutter writing skills, but he had been impressed by his integrity. Something that Perry described as a building block to every great journalist.


And apparently the next building block started at the bottom. As a copy boy.


Nothing glamorous or distinguished, but perfect for Clark. Copy boys were in and out, all day and night.


A perfect excuse to make his quick exits when needed.


Clark had spotted Chloe the very moment he walked in on his first day. She was buzzing around, absolutely beautiful with a distinct, journalistic crusade on her mind as she talked on two phones at once, an ability Clark himself didn’t even possess.


He smiled instantly, realizing for once he didn’t have to duck around a corner just to see her. She looked up, and for a moment, he thought she saw him. He raised his hand to wave in his awkward way, but she’d looked down again, her attention suddenly buried in papers.


A few days later he’d actually delivered a stack of copies to her desk, stopping in front of it, waiting until she’d looked up from her computer screen.

But she didn’t. He began to wonder if he earned a new power, invisibility, and walked off.


Clark decided it wasn’t very important or crucial that he actually interact with her. It was enough to survey her safety. In fact, that was his primary objective, he reminded himself sternly.


The rest of the world depended on him and he had their safety to look after as always.


In fact, he had the entire world to watch over.


“Clark.”


He lifted his head, remembering that he wasn’t invisible to Chloe for once. In fact, she seemed very aware of him, handing him a Styrofoam cup of coffee.


He nodded his thanks, and sipped it absently.


“Careful, Clark, it’s hot.” She looked at him, brows creased, and then sipped from hers.


He smiled, a confused look crossing his face. “If it’s so hot, why are you drinking it?”


She smiled, holding back a giggle. “Well, I thought I was the only human that could stand molten lava coffee temperatures.” Her eyes smiled too. “I guess I was wrong.”

Technically you’re not. Clark inwardly mused, but smiled outwardly.


“So,” she said as she propped herself up on the counter top, “how long have you been working here?” He couldn’t help but notice the doubt still lingering in her inflection.


“A little over a year.”


She almost dropped her coffee.


Almost.


“Wow,” she clenched the Styrofoam with both hands, creating creases with her manicured fingernails. “That’s pretty much how long I’ve been working here. That’s strange.”


“Yeah.” Clark swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t go farther than that.


“What do you do here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” She said, somewhat lying on some level. At least she didn’t really think she was actually seeing him around.


“I’m a copy boy. You know, errands, in and out. That’s probably why.” He said quickly, as if he’d been rehearsing it.


He watched as she nodded very slowly, seeming to soak it all in.


But then she looked up at him with a new curiosity. It made Clark sweat a little, and Clark didn’t sweat. Maybe being invisible to Chloe was better than this. At least then he didn’t have to think of an excuse to every well defined question built to unpeel his cover.


“Clark,” she sipped from her coffee, the momentary pause killing him, “Why are you all wet? Was it raining earlier?”


He swallowed again, going with the excuse that she lent to him. “Yeah, it was. It was one of those weird showers. You know, on and off.”


Her eyes drew lazy patterns over his chest, where his dress shirt clung in patches. He really needed to figure out a better system. Wearing a set of clothes underneath his office clothes became annoying after the first day. He tried wearing a size larger on the outside to compensate for the extra thickness underneath, but it still didn’t feel right. And nothing was worse than wearing wet socks, nonetheless an entire set of wet clothes underneath.


Clark’d just come from the bridge collapsing when he’d heard the subtlest change of her heart. He hurried over, no time to change out of one pair of wet clothes to the other. He’d hustled over to the basement, even forgetting to turn off the speed before he rushed in. He ducked into one of those crowded telephone booths, hoping that she didn’t notice his entry, but of course she had.


She only gave him enough time to pull on his extra clothes, and barely wrangle on his tie.


And now, she stared straight at it hanging loosely from his collar. “Clark. Come here.”


It wasn’t a command, he knew that, but he couldn’t help feeling lured closer to her by her voice. It had been a long time since her voice or anything about her had been directed at him. It was empowering and nerve racking at the same time. Clark set down his cup, and obeyed her.


For once she was at his same height, sitting on top of the counter of the break room. She smiled once he reached her, and set her coffee down next to his.


Wordlessly, she reached out, and very gently took hold of the knot of his tie, straightening it.


“There.” She said once the knot was tamed. “Wet clothes or not, we can’t have you looking totally disheveled.” She looked up at him, her intentions and smile meant to be friendly and endearing.


Clark smiled, and to his own surprise, found his hand moving up towards the side of her face, where his fingers brushed back a lock of hair that had escaped from behind her ear.


He didn’t even realize what he had done until he noticed the dazed expression she wore. She blinked at him for several long moments as Clark inwardly reeled from his actions, pushing up his glasses.


Her hair was fine the way it was, Clark admitted. Perhaps it was just an excuse to touch her, even in the slightest way possible. He hadn’t been able to even talk to her until now. In a scary realization, Clark knew he desperately wanted her attention, some sort of contact.


“Well!” her plucky personality kicking into gear, cutting up obvious tension, “I guess it’s late. Early to bed, early to rise you know!” She hopped down past him before he could even turn around.


Clark watched as she downed the rest of her coffee before she rushed out to her desk where she grabbed her purse and coat.


He knew Chloe’s schedule rarely involved her going home before one in the morning, but it looked like she was making an exception.


“Good night, Chloe.” He called after, watching as she entered the elevator.


She looked back at him, a fluttering smile moving her lips.


“Night, Clark.” It sounded more like a question but it coupled the confused expression she wore as the doors closed.


He turned his ear to the side, listening as she elevated up wards and left the building. It would only be a few hours until she’d be back, and he idly debated if he should just wait for her here until then.

No. A distant voice reprimanded quickly.


He had duties elsewhere, he could never forget that. So he sped off, in any direction that needed him. He worked through the earliest hours, speeding through the first rays of light that dawned. It was only until then he returned to the farm where he’d start a fresh day of work, bailing out the hay for the waking animals.


He would walk from the barn to the house where he’d greet his mother who’d be waiting with a fresh glass of cold milk. Clark would listen intently as his mother absently hummed to a familiar lullaby she’d once sung to him when he’d was still a boy.


He’d then walk up the stairs to his bedroom, the same he’d always had since childhood. Clark would shower, and then change out his old clothes and into his fresh double pair.


While Clark fastened his tie, he remembered how her fingers deftly and delicately fixed the knot close to his chest.


This time it was him who hummed along as he got ready for the new day.


Not to his mother’s lulling melody, but to hers.


chapter ten